


The Cursed Winter

by MueraRashaye



Series: Friends Across Borders [11]
Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Corruption, Defining Justice is Hard, Extortion, Gen, Headcanon, References to witchburning, Seizures, Sign Language, Suicidal Thoughts, mental trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2020-11-22 05:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 115,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20869274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MueraRashaye/pseuds/MueraRashaye
Summary: It feels like half the nation is converging on Sunhame in the hopes of glimpsing another series of miracles - hopes that all those actuallyinvolvedin the last year's miracles are, in turn, very much hoping will be dashed.Unfortunately for all involved, there will be few, if any, miracles. There will be no less work.





	1. A Meeting, Planned For

Kir set Anur and Solaris’ mugs back to steaming as he sipped his own tea. Neither of them had taken so much as a sip after their first, instead falling straight into a debate on the relative merits of regional variations on spice-cake recipes. Anur was unsurprisingly partial to the denser version Kir had first introduced him to – it was more common in the north, but especially within the Sunsguard. Solaris seemed to have a strong preference for the versions with a heavier ginger flavor, which was honestly bizarre as most ginger came through Ruvan, and from what he remembered she had never been stationed within even a week’s travel of Ruvan. 

Finally there was a pause he could take advantage of, and he said briskly, “The clear solution is to arrange a tasting, and enlist either Kari or Hansa to bring the freshest possible sample of each version, then have an immediate and direct comparison. Then you can each have the most accurate opinion possible and agree to disagree.”

“We might not end up disagreeing!” Solaris protested, smiling as she glanced Hansa’s way and asked, “Thoughts, Hansa?” 

_:If it means you two will never have this argument again, I will consider it,:_ the Cat said, staring at her flatly. 

“Never have _this_ argument again? I think we can agree to that,” Anur said cheerfully, picking up his mug and humming happily as he sipped it, “Thanks for keeping my tea warm, Kir.” 

“If I had let it cool you would have just asked me to warm it up anyway,” Kir replied dryly.

“You could have said no,” Solaris pointed out. 

“I wouldn’t have,” Kir shrugged, redirecting with, “The debate is at least postponed?” 

“Fair enough,” Solaris allowed, laughing quietly, “Apologies for boring you, brother! Can I take Anur’s willingness to engage in this debate instead of immediately requesting writs of execution as a sign this visit went well?” 

“I would never ask for writs of execution!” Anur protested, coughing awkwardly at the raised eyebrows that declaration netted and continuing, “Which sounds – far worse than I meant it to. I wouldn’t kill them!” 

_:The dead cannot suffer,:_ Aelius inserted blandly, Solaris choking on her tea at the new voice.

“Exactly – I mean. What a coincidence,” Anur mumbled, before rolling his eyes and admitting, “Fine, fine, if it had gone poorly I would have retaliated _somehow_, but this visit went well, so the point is moot!” 

“My greetings, Companion Aelius,” Solaris said aloud, shifting her attention to the middle distance after giving Anur a ruefully amused glance. “And apologies I have not managed to introduce myself to you previously.” 

_:More than understandable, Your Eminence,:_ Aelius broadcast, _:We have not had occasion to meet without outside stressors, and Companions do not often speak with those not their Chosen besides.:_

“Oh really?” Kir said pointedly.

_ :You’re adopted, it doesn’t count,:_ Aelius replied blithely,_ :Also, Fabron has been strategizing with the stablemaster here on pulling training tips out of you, because clearly Riva is the third such horse that you have somehow trained to Brahnas standard – what is that standard, by the way?:_

“The Brahnas are well known as some of the best horse trainers around, certainly the best in Karse,” Solaris replied, having apparently designated a point floating between Anur and him as ‘Aelius’ for the purpose of looking in a particular direction for a conversation. “The Firestarters have all had Brahnas horses for the past few generations.” 

“A deal was made two Incendi – ah. Three Incendiaries ago – Verius was a student when it was made,” Kir explained, shrugging, “I do not know the details of it, but it certainly counted as part of their tithe and undoubtedly they received some sort of additional concessions for contracting with us in particular. Jaina would know more, and she mentioned Fabron was her understudy so at least him discussing it makes some sense – apparently he’s horse-mad.” 

_:And very dedicated to keeping the Firestarter’s contract with the Brahnases going. With Ancar – I expect he’ll ask when Maltin and Rodri will receive their Brahnas’ horses, with a push for as soon as possible, and for you accompanying them.: _

“Which is more than fair,” Kir admitted, grimacing, “I’ve been meaning to ask them about Riva for some time now, though I planned to put it off until after the Valdemar alliance, simply so there would be no chance of them noting your disguise, Aelius.” 

_:Yes well – we need to either find some reason to postpone it to that point, or Anur and I need to dodge the trip, as the other thing Fabron thinks the Brahnases can offer is appropriate stud fees.: _

Kir and Solaris both choked on their tea and Anur collapsed into laughter, Aelius sounding ruefully amused as he continued, _:Undercover Companions have run into this before, and usually we can interfere with perceptions enough it never comes to us – ah. Being put in a position to refuse to perform, as it were, but widespread mental interference can get very messy, very quickly, particularly if Fabron has been discussing this for a while.: _

“Forget that!” Anur wheezed, “Imagine Fabron’s _face_ when he realizes Aelius _heard_ this plan!” 

“That poor man,” Solaris said sympathetically, though her very clear amusement at the thought rather undercut it. “Kir, which route will you likely go? Postpone or have these two avoid?” 

“Avoid,” Kir admitted, drumming his fingers on his mug, “I do want to speak to them about Riva, and Maltin certainly needs a good horse soon. Rodri could wait, but it would be better for him to have more time with a particular horse than less, right now he’s been using the standard lesson horses and the communal ones for our rides out to Aulch.”

_ :Also, if it’s something about Brahnas horse bloodlines that result in my own interference lasting for a ridiculously long time, having Rodri with one of similar lines can only help,:_ Aelius pointed out. 

“Is that likely?” Anur asked, finally managing to stop snickering and looking intrigued instead, “For some horse bloodlines to accept being boosted by Companions better than others?” 

_:I don’t see why not – or why, to be frank. It is simply a thought.:_

“Bloodlines were my planned question,” Kir said thoughtfully, “Easy enough to direct the conversation that way. I don’t recall any particular bloodline being mentioned for Riva though – he was gelded by the time I got him, if his bloodlines were valuable they wouldn’t have bothered.”

Solaris shrugged at their glances, saying, “I know nothing of horses beyond the basics of assessing their condition for the tithe and how to keep one in resonable condition while riding. Aside from my assignment to the troika I haven’t had any occasion to use those riding lessons we all received. For my pastoral assignment I walked.” 

“You know, I honestly forget that most pastoral priests walk or join caravans to reach their assignments and don’t necessarily know horses well at all,” Kir admitted, “I’m far too used to the duty requirements for rovers.”

“It is what you are, and what you’d encounter most often,” Solaris replied, smiling faintly as she added, “The fact you’ve spent over a decade stationed with a cavalry unit doesn’t help, I’d bet.” 

“Probably not,” Kir agreed, tilting his mug her way. 

“Now that we’ve been thoroughly distracted – Anur, you said _this_ visit went well, is there anything behind that qualifier or are you hedging your bets?”

“He never hedges bets,” Kir grumbled, scowling at Anur, “He _cursed us_.”

“I did _not_!” 

“I will ask about _that_ later, but first I want to hear about this visit!” 

Anur sent a worried look his way and Kir sighed quietly, nodding in agreement. With Anur saying _this_ visit went well – he had come to much the same conclusion. 

“The Valdemar reforms are going to be hard on them – even without taking into account Anur’s status,” he admitted, “Lukas especially. He was visibly struggling with the… ways I’ve changed, from what he might have ever imagined for me. That is aside from his understandable trauma – fear of horses he confirmed verbally, and Kari’s eyes startled him badly as well. Kiara has no former impressions of me to bias her, and Elisia seems content enough with the fact I’m not a fire-hungry witch-hunting maniac, and very cognizant of the realities being a Firestarter impose. Tamara and Irma both – they may not be pleased, may not take the knowledge easily, but it will not be particularly difficult for them.” 

“Lukas is the one crippled by Seraphi?” Solaris asked quietly, wincing when Kir nodded and continuing, “Understandable. The poor man. No that reform will not sit easy with them. When it draws closer – no further than a week out – I see no reason you could not inform them of it earlier. Perhaps not Anur’s identity, though that of course is up to you, but of the coming Midsummer announcement. If they were to only hear of it in public – depending on how the Midsummer announcement is made, they might end up learning of this change in the midst of a Midsummer service crowd – an advance notice would be preferable.”

“That might help,” Kir said, feeling his shoulders slump and he laughed ruefully, running a hand down his face and correcting, “No, it will help. It will just be a hard conversation to have, and the aftermath of it will be – hard. At least we have time.” 

“At least we have time,” Solaris echoed. “On a related note,” Anur said, “Thoughts on mental shielding being added to the standard childhood curriculum?”

“It’s a very elegant solution,” Solaris agreed, brightening as the conversation switched to a somewhat less personally fraught part of their future.

So far as she knew, at least. Kir was hesitant to tell Elisia’s story here, not without his sister’s permission. She was a potentially valuable resource in teaching and testing shielding, especially because she was a lay-person, but their relationship was too fragile for him to be willing to betray her confidences.

She had round-about confirmed to Anur that she was taught shielding by a Herald, and Anur wasn’t mentioning it either. 

“I was thinking about the matter,” Kir admitted instead, continuing, “An adjustment to the nation’s childhood curriculum would require a fairly universal announcement. If it was led up to in some way, or announced and then at the end have some form of the phrasing ‘anyone who has knowledge of this, please reach out’ – I don’t know how we could encourage it without blatant bribery or making people uncomfortable, but offering the basics and then opening the field to those who have been taught somehow? With Wes present in Karse for so long – with other operatives present in Karse, or even just local teachers passing things down through the generations – I find it hard to believe that literally no one in the laity has knowledge of mental shielding. Even some returners from Valdemar could be resources, that would possibly help with reintegrating them into their communities.

“Some sort of testing and verification of the shields’ strength is another issue – but you’ve returned the Feast of the Children to its old purpose for thirteen year olds, would it be possible – perhaps in a year or two, given – to modify it again to include testing for adequate mental shields? Make it part of the adulthood rite?” 

“That will take more than a couple of years to establish,” Solaris replied, gaze distant as she thought it over, “But it could work nicely.”

“There has to be an option for teachers to not be priests. A _long-term, permanent_ option, not an understanding that these are exceptional times and one day such education will only be in the priesthood’s hands again,” Anur reminded them, shaking his head, “I realize the priesthood is a major logistical backbone for Karse, but if you don’t decentralize some of the Talent instruction, I worry that it will be easier to backslide. Also, some sort of allowance for training beyond mere shielding, _without_ requiring the individual train for the priesthood, really needs to be put into place or at least considered as a possibility.”

“And an incentive of some sort for pursuing that additional training,” Kir added, frowning, because training everyone to shield was all well and good but it wouldn’t be enough. Training the Talented was equally necessary, and Anur raised good points on teaching things besides the basic survival skill of shielding. “We _want_ trained, Talented individuals. Even if they don’t work with their Talent in some way that tangibly contributes to the community, without training – active, conscious control of their Talent – they are far too easily turned into tangible threats, and horror stories always spread farther and faster than happy ones.” 

“Something to add to the Council discussion,” Solaris agreed, frowning slightly, “I might set Larschen on it to do some preliminary research in the next few days – you two need to focus on the Conclave.” 

“Thankfully everyone has had a chance to review the Charter – and edits have been ongoing all year,” Kir huffed a laugh, “This would be a disaster if we had to do all of those edits and writings in the Conclave itself, we’d never finish in time for the Vigil.” 

Shaking his head, he focused on the conversation again; this was their only planned meeting before Midwinter – with the Conclave starting tomorrow evening, he and Anur would be fully occuppied with the Firestarters, and even if they weren’t actually busy the entire time he would rather plan to be available for the entire time. Half the point of the Conclave was allowing all Firestarters relatively equal access to the Hall and the Incendiary. With as long as their list was, he would rather raise concerns and issues before Midwinter and give Solaris at least a few days to potentially start on them or at least think things over. The sooner they had answers and at least tentative plans, the sooner they could get back north, and tomorrow would not be soon enough. 

“How did the necromancy warding go?” he asked, “And more critically for me, was there any apparent drama or tension between Colbern and Tristan?” 

“Not that I can recall, and the warding went quite well,” Solaris reported, reaching for a piece of her negotiated half of spice-cake. “I anchored the East, Tristan the North – and I was surprised to see two Firestarters amongst the necromancers, that is a significant presence with how few there are – Colbern the West and Liljan the South. With the exorcists managing the channels to the border ward we were able to reinforce and reinvigorate them to the point I suspect next year won’t require the rite at all, though it certainly wouldn’t hurt. Unfortunately, even with that much power drained away, the exorcists don’t report a significant drain in the border ward – there certainly _was_ a drain, but it started recouping its losses rather immediately, from Loshern’s report.” 

“Dismantling that is the next priority then,” Kir sighed, “I had hoped this would at least slow things down, but – it seems not.” 

“Not significantly, no,” Solaris said sympathetically. 

“The other matter has to do with Loshern and something we had relayed to us,” Anur finally admitted, hesitating before continuing, “We – did not have the best of first meetings, and in the course of it I ran through an early version of my homicidal maniac trick and I hold grudges, so I continued a – vague sort of hostility with him. Nothing truly – well. I thought of it more as teasing, but he was not interpreting it that way.” 

“All right,” Solaris said slowly, clearly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Kir took up the explanation, saying, “When we went to present Anika Brersi her spear, Fredric and Anur were talking and somehow it came up that Fredric had – realized, at the very least, that there were likely complications, complications potentially hazardous to the anchors, in the border ward we had designed and said nothing of it. During the argument about it he – frankly, he admitted that he saw the death of every living Firestarter as no true disaster, as a potential benefit, even, because we had fallen so far from our purpose that starting from our ashes could very well be better for everyone.” 

“_Would_ be better,” Anur corrected, voice tight. 

“No, Anur,” Kir insisted quietly, “_Could_ be better. His first worry was that any delay in the warding would have catastrophic consequences – and long-term ones – for Karse. Did he do anything to avoid our wholesale risk? No, he did not. The thing that I find unforgiveable – that _Kavrick_ finds unforgivable – is the fact he did not even try to get us to leave our students out of it. That would not have been hard to manage without putting our actual completion of the ward as scheduled at risk, and he did not even try.” 

“The destruction of the Firestarting Order was not his _goal_, fine, but the fact that he knew it was a possibility – even thought it was _likely_ – and considered that a _fair cost_ without even _consulting_ someone else on the decision - !”

“Anur, brother, easy,” Kir murmured, reaching over to wrap a hand around Anur’s wrist, looking over to Solaris and wincing at the grief very much evident on her face. 

“I am so sorry that you had to hear that,” Solaris said quietly, meeting his gaze. “I have heard – some similar sentiments, and come down hard on them. Because a challenge, certainly. _Worth doing_, definitely. _Necessary_ – yes. I truly believe building on ashes would do nowhere near as much good for this reform as painstakingly restructuring yourselves. But it is not a universal understanding. They mistake harshness for justice, and it is a habit formed by centuries. It will take time to undo.”

“It will,” Kir agreed, voice just as quiet. He shook it off, though he didn’t remove his hand from Anur’s wrist, and continued with the actual point they were trying to make with this topic, “But that is not what we needed to speak with you about – not truly. Anika Brersi asked him later about his wording – he was needlessly confrontational, from what she said, and it came out that he can – well. He can detect Aelius’ bond with Anur as a powerful soul-binding with a non-human entity with enough of a connection and enough strength that this unknown being could interfere with Anur’s memories and thought processes at will. It horrified him, but he still recognized that he was not being called to act as he always was when his services as an exorcist were necessary, so did nothing. But it made him view Anur with no little wariness and suspicion on top of the antagonistic teasing Anur subjected the man too.” 

Tightening his hold when Anur shuddered, he deliberately met Solaris’ gaze and concluded, “Kari has found four occurrences of exorcists attacking Heralds through their bond with their Companions in our records, Sister. On consulting with the Grove-born in Valdemar, there have been seven total cases over our nine-hundred years of enmity, with the most recent being Randyl, Chosen of Sonya, occuring in the reign of – ah, the grandmother of the man who ruled during Firestorm’s lifetime.”

“Elspeth the Wise, grandmother to King Theran,” Anur supplied. 

“He did not have a nickname?” Kir asked, seizing on it as a brief distraction or at least shift in mood.

“Actually Elspeth is the only repeated royal name – at least for reigning monarchs, so even if other monarchs did end up with nicknames – I think most did, maybe as part of their funeral? I don’t remember, but the only ones actively remembered are the Elspeths, simply because there’s more than one of them. With the current Heir – I think she’ll be the Fourth, when she takes the throne,” Anur shrugged, “I asked about it in my history class, seems to be coincidence – there were a few other Heirs that were Seconds of their name, but they never actually made it to the throne and a sibling or cousin had to step up. By now it might very well be a superstition, though admittedly I haven’t actually asked the Queen and she’d be the one to know.” 

“_Seven_,” Solaris said, voice faint. 

Both of them snapped their attention to her and Kir had to wince, because she was – that was grief. That was _devastation_. 

“Seven times that one of our – that a priest with a true _calling_, a true _vocation_, goes so far astray?” she whispered, burying her face in her hands, “To directly attack bonded _souls_, how could they?” 

Hansa made his way over to her, climbing up to drape himself across her legs and she shuddered, burying her fingers in his fur. Before Kir could think of anything to say, she let out a deep sigh and straightened, exchanging a long glance with her Cat.

“There are techniques that can be taught to victims of soul-based attacks, things that – for lack of a better phrase, staunch the bleeding. I would be glad to teach them to the both of you, and to pass on instruction to Valdemar regardless of the status of our alliance. Should anyone be attacked that way again, Sunlord forbid, they could at least – survive long enough to escape and hopefully reform their bond, though there would be – side-effects, trauma, regardless,” Solaris said, looking between them both before admitting, “Knowing this – I would consider it a _favor_, if you two learned this. Anur, primarily, but Kir it could not hurt, and having a second person around – you would be able to help, if something happened.”

_ :It sounds like this would help if I died as well,:_ Aelius said quietly,_ :When a Companion dies – if it is quick, a surprise, then I would not be able to do anything to ease the blow on you, and this would – this would let you live.:_

Anur was shaking. 

“It need not happen,” Kir murmured, tightening his grip and leaning in when Anur turned towards him, pressing their brows together and repeating, “It need not happen. This is – a safety net. Kari waiting to Jump me out of the Trial, if something went wrong.” 

“I can’t – I can’t learn it now, not now,” Anur whispered, shuddering, “Not _here_.” 

“Sunhame would be a bad place for it,” Solaris agreed, watching them worriedly. “For multiple reasons. No, it should wait until you are in a place you consider safe, consider home, which I rather think is the 62nd. Hansa can Jump me there, you two and he will be more than adequate security, and I rather think I’d like to meet the men who have done so very much for Our cause.” 

“You’ll have to come before the end of the next moon, in that case,” Kir said, “The twins that were our most frequent back-up have their commissions up then.” 

“Well then, we have a deadline,” Solaris said, smiling.

They sat in silence for a time, and Anur was the one to break it, leaning back in his chair and turning to Solaris, “Right. We wanted to know if you knew about that, and if Ulrich had shown any signs of detecting the same thing Loshern did.” 

“I personally cannot sense your bond with Aelius casually – if I meditated and focused on you, I would be able to perceive it, but without that jarring sense of something being wrong to prompt that deeper look, I have no real reason to do so. I was unaware that such casual detection of soul-deep bonds was possible. However, I was never properly trained as an exorcist. Ulrich has passed things along, and I am more than capable of performing exorcisms, but I was never offered training. As for Ulrich, he has said nothing to me regarding some sort of interference or difference in your soul,” Solaris frowned thoughtfully, “I will think of a way to broach the topic with him. Perhaps in reference to building an alliance with Valdemar – I do want to bring that up during the council meeting after Midwinter… I was planning to make that a dinner meeting the evening of Midwinter’s Day, mask its urgency with the excuse of us celebrating the season.” 

“Urgency?” Kir parroted, startled before thinking it over, “The Valdemar alliance build-up, you mean?” 

“We need all the lead time we can get,” Solaris grimaced, admitting tiredly, “I _cannot_ figure out a way to start the alliance off strong without relying overly much on nationwide miracles, which is not tenable. Your reports on the northern reaches indicate the borderlands will have far fewer difficulties than I ever thought, but the rest of the nation – the rest of the _priesthood_… It needs to be something tangible, something _real_ that will last past the day itself, but also something that the powers of both nations can agree to. I realize you two do not plan to hide Aelius as a paint past that, but your presence wouldn’t be anything _new_, and such a dramatic change needs something new to represent it. Also – Aelius’ presence aside, Anur, I rather think you’re too Karsite to be a true symbol of Valdemar anymore.”

Anur shrugged at Kir’s sharp look, saying quietly, “She’s perfectly correct, Kir. Karse is home to you and I both now.”

“I thought so,” Kir murmured, “But hadn’t been sure you had realized it.” 

“After taking Lenora back and having panic attacks when I saw my own Whites on my arms?” Anur said ruefully, “How could I not? The last time I was in Valdemar to ask about exorcisms I ended up forgetting to speak the right language, and not having any dawn services or even hearing hymns in the distance while we dealt with something else felt _wrong_. And that is aside from the usual discomfort of not having you in range.” 

“Sending you to Valdemar with a request for alliance is not in the cards then – I did not plan on it, not truly, my initial envoy must represent my government and mine _alone_. I will probably have to send Karchanek – it would be him or Ulrich, and Ulrich is not up for that long of a journey on his own any longer. He has a student besides.” 

“Perhaps as the first long term envoy? Ship his student off with him, emphasize our intention to have a second generation of envoys?” Kir suggested, Solaris humming thoughtfully but not responding otherwise.

He would keep pushing that idea. He had not missed her use of the word ‘initial’ when she said their service as an envoy would be a poor idea. With his position as Incendiary, sending him as an envoy would not be particularly feasible, but the more options she could consider that _weren’t_ himself and Anur, the better. For one, he had no desire to try and be Incendiary from any further away than the 62nd. For another, Anur and he would be a _terrible_ ambassadorial team. 

“Again, we have time,” Anur said finally, shrugging, “Let’s get through this Midwinter first.”

“Hopefully the plans for a quiet Midwinter actually work out,” Solaris said wistfully.

Kir snorted, pointing at Anur, “If they don’t, blame him. He cursed us.” 

“Oh _please_,” Anur scoffed, rolling his eyes at Solaris’ intrigued glance, “As if we weren’t cursed with interesting times already, I hardly think my wording is any different from Solaris’ hopes for a quiet Midwinter! She cursed us just as badly!”

“She didn’t presume that a quiet past could be considered a _sign_ for a quiet future!” Kir shot back, “She prevaricated! _Hoped_, rather than _assumed_! It is different! You cursed us! He cursed us. For the record.” 

“Well then, hopefully, he only cursed _you_, and perhaps the Firestarters, and I myself will escape mostly unscathed. You had best go, go on, both of you – _don’t_ try to reword your curse to include me!” Solaris barked, jabbing a finger at Anur, who squawked denials at ever considering it but no one was fooled.

Kir huffed a laugh and set his mug aside, throwing his saddlebags over his shoulders and hauling Anur to his feet and to the door. “We will see you in a few days, Solaris, barring any curse transference.” 

“I will see you then!” she replied, heading to her desk as they shut the door behind them. 

They set off down the corridor, Anur still shaking his head and muttering about ridiculous superstitions, he didn’t curse _anyone_. Kir didn’t bother arguing, but he definitely made mental note of this conversation. When Anur was proven wrong, he would want to have specific details in his ‘I told you so’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hrrrrgghhha it's not even done guys seriously but at least I have it half done gaaaaahhhhh...
> 
> Anur. Bellamy. You. Jerk.
> 
> As you can undoubtedly guess from the work title, the letter concluding the last fic, and this whole chapter - they were cursed. They were DEFINITELY cursed.
> 
> Hope the meeting with Solaris flowed well - it was actually pretty fun to write, and let a lot of things get followed up on/resolved/mentioned/foreshadowed. I am a little concerned with Aelius deciding to speak up at long last with Solaris but... it's been a year, and I couldn't not include his dialogue and relays get clunky. So - probably won't happen often, but it might happen occasionally.


	2. Flamesinger

“Father Kir!”

Maltin had looked up when Rodri bolted to his feet, much less when Rodri had given a cheerful greeting and practically tackled his mentor when the man rounded the shelves. Enforcer Bellamy didn’t have to steady him this time, but the man had clearly been ready to – they had all seen it happen before.

Both were still dressed in travelers’ garb, no vestments or even official Sunsguard uniform in sight. Now that the District was open it was no surprise they had been allowed within the Temple District without visible adornments, but it was startling to realize how much of Maltin’s idea of their appearance had been formed by the uniforms he usually saw them in.

The three of them had finished their initial greetings and reassurances – Rodri had been practically buzzing out of his skin the past few days, worried about how the family visit was going. Everyone was worried, even if they preferred not to admit it, but Rodri was the only one showing it so blatantly.

Maltin had caught Kavrick and Valerik strategizing over ways to minimize the collateral damage inherent in boat-sinking storms the other day though.

By the lack of tension and the fact that the men had clearly come straight here from settling their horses and seeing Her Emminence rather than retreating to lick wounds and build up masks – Maltin would say the visit had gone as well as could be expected. Nothing terrible enough to require the various contingency and vengeance plans that the other Firestarters had cooked up.

He wasn’t _upset_ about that, how could he be, but he was really curious about what all those plans had been.

Returning the Incendiary’s nod when they reached the table, Maltin echoed Etrius and Fabron’s murmured greetings, examining the Sun in Glory their leader was wearing because he’d heard about this from the others and been rather upset he hadn’t had a chance to get a close look at it in person with them. Now Father Kir was _wearing _it, as he should be, and he could hardly ask to prod at it when –

He reared back when the pendant in question was suddenly hanging in front of his face, feeling the back of his neck heat up when the others chuckled and breathing out slowly because he knew them. He knew _tone_, and this wasn’t malicious.

“Maltin, you can examine it,” Father Kir said, adjusting his grip so the pendant wasn’t simply swinging in front of his face and offering it to him properly, “I would hardly say no. The worst I might say is let’s set a time for later, but we have nothing pressing and I wished to speak to Etrius about his Charter draft and any last minute edits regardless. Also, I believe Anur made a promise to Fabron we need to follow through on.”

“I did – oh right, that promise,” Enforcer Bellamy shook his head ruefully and dropped his saddlebags on the ground, claiming a chair next to Fabron and saying, “As agreed, we’re coming to you first, and won’t go to Tristan directly until tomorrow in case you need to offer some sort of warning.”

“I – warning?” Fabron asked blankly, before shaking his head and straightening in his seat, looking almost alarmed, “No it is – it is nothing like that, nothing that is _wrong_ it is simply upsetting to him – “

“Fabron,” the Incendiary cut him off, hand raised slightly and more than enough to silence Fabron with a near audible _click_ as his jaw clenched, the two older men exchanging glances before focusing back on him, Father Kir continuing, “Fabron, we are not trying to imply that you are working with Tristan to – cover something, to dodge some penalty. We were under the impression that you wished us to speak with you first because Tristan might find our rather ignorant approaches stressing or upsetting in some way, and would rather avoid adding unnecessary stress. I, at the very least, respond far better to being warned ahead of time that something upsetting is on the way than in being ambushed.”

By Enforcer Bellamy’s grumbling and Father Kir’s dry tone, there was a story there.

“So we will give until tomorrow afternoon, so you can offer him that warning, and if he wishes to speak to us sooner and get the conversation over with, he is free to, but if not, we will designate a time to seek him out,” the Incendiary continued, and Maltin felt his shoulders drop down from around his ears as Fabron relaxed.

He knew he should be properly interested in what Fabron was relaying to their leadership about Tristan, but now that he wasn’t worried he would need to quickly vacate the area with babbled excuses and hopefully remember to return this Sun in Glory before he left, he could focus on the sacred relic in his hands.

Rodri was sitting next to him, watching his examination of the Sun in Glory he had helped craft, clearly near bursting with pride over what he had managed to put together. As well he should, it was beautiful.

Letting his fingertips run over the edge of the disk, murmuring the inscription to himself and wondering if it was merely fancy that caused the sun-blessed steel to flash with a brighter gold when he finished it, Maltin knew he could easily spend marks sitting here examining this piece. It was _beautiful_. It was – singing?

Brow furrowing, he let his eyes slip mostly closed and listened more intently – carefully focusing on the scraps of _something_ he was hearing and letting the conversations fade – Father Kir speaking to Etrius about the Charter’s final draft, Enforcer Anur murmuring the occasional clarifying question to a low-toned Fabron – those weren’t important, not when he was starting to catch some hint of a tune.

Tracing his fingers over the steel again, he hummed a few bars before scowling, because those weren’t _right_, didn’t _match_, so he reached further, humming snippets of not-quite-right harmony as he tried to capture that faint –

“_Kari!”_

Maltin gasped, eyes flying open as he hit gravel, struggling for a few frantic moments before recognizing the person pinning him down as Father Kir, as _safe_, but the music wasn’t fading it was still echoing in his ears in the air in _fire _–

=pagebreak=

Anur barely had a few seconds warning but it was enough to reach across the table and grab Rodri, hauling him across it with liberal help from Fetching his clothes but still almost not soon enough to get him clear of the roaring whirlwind of golden fire that engulfed Maltin and Kir both, Kir’s shout for their Order’s Firecat – Kir’s worried but unharmed and unafraid presence in Anur’s mind – the only thing that kept a complete panic from descending when the fire vanished and them with it.

“They’re in the courtyard. Are all three of you all right?” Anur demanded, forcing back his own alarm and looking the other three over.

None looked injured at the very least, but all looked distressed in some way.

“Fabron, I need you to make sure there are no embers waiting to light our Library on fire,” he ordered, figuring the ordained Firestarter would be the one most definitively able to complete that task. “Etrius, check the books on this table and the shelves behind for damage including superficial and set those that are damaged aside. Once those tasks are finished you are both free to go. Rodri, with me.”

He didn’t bother restraining himself from a run, Rodri following but falling behind simply due to shorter legs. He would normally wait, ensure Rodri was running without pain because he had collided with the table at least once when he dragged him across, but he could hear shouts of alarm and needed to make sure no one did anything reckless. He needed to be close enough to at least be able to _try _if something went wrong.

Barreling into the courtyard he lunged to catch Kavrick around the waist and hurl him back towards the edges – the central gravel circle was filled with a twisting firestorm of golden-white flames radiating enough heat he could feel his skin tightening even from the outer edges of the courtyard.

“Let me _go_ Maltin is in that!” the priest snarled, frantic enough he wasn’t managing to employ too much of his basic hand-to-hand training but still difficult to keep penned.

“So is Kir!” Anur barked back, managing to choke down his own anxiety and continue, “So is Kari! Stand _down_ Kavrick, your student is unharmed!”

“You can’t know that!”

“_Yes I can!”_

“He can Father Kavrick!” Rodri said, sticking to the walls as he made his way over to them and keeping one wary eye on the firestorm in their midst. “He can, remember? Father Kir would be able to tell him right away if something had gone wrong. Kari could too.”

“Kir has been dealing with these exact flames for _weeks_ without injuring anyone!” Anur continued, gritting his teeth against the paranoid shudder Rodri’s still not-quite-direct reference to their mindspeech induced and cursing when Kavrick nearly managed to escape his hold at the distraction. Wrestling the man back – this time, he shamelessly Fetched the toes of his boots to the ground, the man was frantic enough he probably wouldn’t notice and he wasn’t going to let someone burn in defense of that secret – he quickly continued.

“He can keep Maltin safe, even without Kari’s assistance, but there are no guarantees for anyone else stepping into that. None! _What would Maltin do if he burned you_?”

That finally cut through Kavrick’s concern, the man freezing in place. Anur didn’t dare loosen his hold on him just yet, continuing implacably, “What would Maltin do, if after he manages to wrestle these flames under control, after he manages to make an immense stride in his abilities, he finds out that his mentor was burned, was scarred at the very least, was _dead_ at the worst, because of flames he accidentally caused?”

“He would be devastated,” Jaina answered, emerging around a trailing arm of the firestorm and batting it aside with her ever-present halberd, a grimly worried expression on her face, “Maltin, Kir and Kari are all in there then?”

“Maltin was examining Kir’s new Sun in Glory and started humming to some tune – I think he might have been hearing the song Kir and Rodri hear,” Anur said, catching Rodri’s nod out of the corner of his gaze. “That firestorm manifested almost immediately afterwards. Kir can sense that sort of power and recognized it fast enough for him to grab Maltin and call Kari to get them out of the library and into a cleared area. Fabron and Etrius are ensuring no embers are left behind and checking books for damages.”

“Reasonable,” she said shortly, gaze softening a bit as she looked at Kavrick, saying quietly, “You know he is right, Kavrick.”

“He’s my _student_,” Kavrick whispered, eyes not wavering from the storm and looking near terrified to even blink.

“Your student is in the best possible hands,” Jaina said, looking past them and calling, “Colbern! How many are with you?”

“Six total, eight counting you two.”

“A six-point containment then. Henrick?”

“He’s here.”

“He’s lead.”

Watching with no little fascination, forcing himself to focus on the Firestarters maneuvering into position for some sort of ritual or rite or spell instead of continuing to mentally prod Kir, Anur managed to get Kavrick and Rodri both settled on a bench along the wall, Kavrick rigidly tense and Rodri wrapping an arm around his ribs worryingly. Reaching over Rodri’s head to grab Kavrick’s collar – just in case – he murmured, “Rodri, are you injured?”

“Some bruising,” he admitted, gaze flickering from the firestorm to Anur’s face and back before he whispered, “You would know, right?”

“Of course,” Anur assured him. He could hardly say otherwise without sending Kavrick into another panicked frenzy, but he wasn’t lying. Kir wasn’t afraid, wasn’t horrified and upset and all the things he would be if he was watching a student under their protection die in fire. He was worried, he was deeply concerned, but there was an underlying sense of wonder, of gleeful curiousity, that would never accompany a true tragedy.

Maltin was uninjured. Kir and Kari both were uninjured. But he would not yet say that they would all be _fine_. His heart, still racing, wouldn’t let him.

The six Firestarters formed a ring around the firestorm with a healthy border of cleared space – a very good idea, seeing as occasional licks of flame spiraled out quite some distance before looping back into the storm – and were clearly in the midst of some working. Unfortunately Henrick was not one of the four he could see, as being the lead – whatever that meant – probably meant he was making more obvious gestures or indicators of what they were doing. But by the extended hands, raised towards one another to form a more clear circle, various acoutrements for controlling fire visible, they were working some sort of ward. Perhaps ensuring that the firestorm didn’t grow any larger?

Jaina had paced the circle and was approaching them again, runes on her halberd shimmering like a mirage, and she said, “Anur, if you could tell Kir there is a six-point boundary ward in place, that should allow him and Kari both to focus more on getting Maltin’s manifestation of flames calmed down rather than on keeping them contained.”

Telling the Firestarters about their Talent was already coming in handy then, and for more than just proof of concept.

_:Kir, Jaina says to tell you there’s a six-point containment ward in place around the storm. Henrick is leading it.:_

_:Perfect, that helps quite a bit,: _Kir replied, and Anur couldn’t quite hold back his relieved sigh when he finally heard proper _words_ from Kir, rather than sensations. Whatever leash Kir had been keeping on the storm very quickly dissolved, lashes of fire no longer looping back into the storm and instead crashing against a mostly invisible but occasionally sparking barrier. _:Once we get this locked down, Kari is going to have to stay with him until we can ensure this doesn’t happen accidentally. He’s going to have to join me in meditation to figure these flames out, but I do have a better idea of them now.:_

Before Anur had a chance to relay that, Jaina said, “Would my presence help, hinder, or neither?”

Passing that along, Anur caught the bare edge of Kir’s shock at the implied offer before he replied, _:Her presence would be an immense help. For one thing, Maltin is more familiar with her. He’s not responding to me.:_

When he said that to Jaina he was unsurprised by her grimace, because she very clearly did _not_ find firestorms and flames the comfort and thrill that Kir did, but he was also unsurprised by the way she nodded and turned to the firestorm, halberd held in a cross-body guard position and starting to truly glow before she strode in, soon vanishing from sight.

He had never seen anyone but Kir walk into fire like that.

By Kavrick’s shudder, by Rodri’s gasp, by Aelius’ startled oath, he wasn’t the only one struck by the sight.

=pagebreak=

Kir had never realized – he had never heard –

The golden flames were _singing_.

The tune that Rodri had recognized, had pointed out, with the Sun in Glory he had made, was echoing and amplified in the golden flames that had engulfed Maltin the moment he added his own Talent to the harmony. His own attempts to grasp them, to control them properly, had failed because he hadn’t been hearing them properly, he had only been catching a faint edge, the occasional note, rather than the entire melody and no _wonder _Vanya Flamesinger had searched so very long and bargained so very hard for sun-blessed steel!

Kari had managed to get them to the courtyard and they had wordlessly split the labor of keeping the three of them supplied with breathable air, and keeping the firestorm from growing to uncontainable size. Keeping them alive was the more immediately crucial task, so Kari had taken it. Any lapses in Kir’s concentration or waver in his control due to his not-yet-complete understanding of the golden flames would be easier to recover from without serious damage if all he had to contend with was keeping the firestorm within the courtyard’s boundaries.

But it left him with little focus to explain things to the teen shaking in his arms.

_:Kir, Jaina says to tell you there’s a six-point containment ward in place around the storm. Henrick is leading it.:_

_:Perfect, that helps quite a bit,: _Kir replied, relief washing over him and he didn’t even hesitate to let the majority of his focus retreat from containment, and letting even that small bit reduce to nothing after the first few seconds proved Henrick’s ward would hold. Jaina would not have had Anur pass that message on without being confident that the ward would work, and he was glad to see that her confidence hadn’t been misplaced. Even those few seconds spent without wrapping those singing flames back in on themselves was enough for him to reach some conclusions, passing on to Anur, _:Once we get this locked down, Kari is going to have to stay with him until we can ensure this doesn’t happen accidentally. He’s going to have to join me in meditation to figure these flames out, but I do have a better idea of them now.:_

Anur couldn’t have passed that along by the time he relayed, _:Jaina wants to know if her presence would help, hinder or neither.:_

Kir glanced at Kari, the Cat’s blue eyes equally stunned at the offer because – Jaina had no reason to offer that. She knew as well as anyone that they would be able to figure this out, get things back under control, without her. It might take longer, but they would do it. She did not have to do this.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t take her up on it.

_:Her presence would be an immense help. For one thing, Maltin is more familiar with her. He’s not responding to me.:_

Anur sent back wordless assurance and by the jangling _shock-awe-wonder_ that overpowered the anxiety he had been radiating ever since this started Jaina had walked straight into the storm. His mental estimate about the storm’s size – a whirlwind, more accurately, it truly wasn’t large – was evidently right, as it took barely enough time for a few rushed strides for Jaina to appear, halberd’s sigils glowing and a determined expression on her face.

He was so glad she was the other First Order Firestarter. Friendship aside, fire _worried_ her. She had _nightmares_ about her First Order Trial but she had still succeeded. She had still _tried_. She was a much more realistic example for others to follow.

Planting the butt of her weapon in the gravel and adding her own reinforcement to Kari’s protective dome, she crouched next to him and rested a hand on Maltin’s back, murmuring, “Maltin? Can you respond?”

“I can,” Maltin’s voice wavered, the teen finally pulling back a bit from where he’d buried his face in Kir’s chest but quickly reversing course when he caught sight of the flames surrounding them, flinching away.

“You can hear them,” Kir murmured, eyes narrowing at Maltin’s shuddering nod. “You can _still_ hear them – they are loud, to you?”

“Loud like – like a full Temple chorus with all the doors shut,” Maltin whispered.

Jaina made a clicking noise against her teeth and shook her head when Kir shot her a quizzical look, saying quietly, “I don’t hear anything but the sounds of fire, Kir. No music of any sort.”

“Hmm. And if anyone else was likely to it would be you,” Kir said, filing that knowledge away to pursue later before returning his focus to the matter at hand. He had – well. It was a flimsy theory, at best, but at worst it would do nothing.

“And what would be the most stridently clashing note to that chorus you hear?” he prompted, smiling when Maltin jerked back to give him a dubious look, shrugging as he explained, “This storm started when you hummed along with it, and gave that tune the extra push to manifest in the world as fire. Seems an idea.”

“The silent gong?” Jaina asked, raising an eyebrow but looking more intrigued than doubtful.

“Possibly meant to be the _silencing_ gong,” Kir offered back, having recalled the same strange scrap of phrase that was nonetheless present in all the versions of Vanya Flamesinger’s tale.

Maltin hesitated, hummed a few notes before flinching each time, and finally inhaled and brought his fingers to his lips, Jaina and Kir both clapping their hands over their ears in time to avoid being deafened by his horrifically shrill whistle.

But that was enough. The song the golden flames had been dancing to quivered and broke apart into disparate, dissolving pieces and now that they weren’t so well synchronized and harmonized with one another Kir was able to lend his Talent to Kari’s and finish silencing them entirely. At least for the moment.

“Maltin!” Kavrick shouted, halfway across the courtyard by the time the flames entirely disappeared and practically shoving Jaina out of the way to get to his student, hauling him into a fierce hug and murmuring, “Are you all right? You’re not injured? You scared the _life_ out of me, Maltin, Sunlord praised you’re sure you’re all right?”

Kari was purring up a storm and draping himself across the pair’s laps, head butting against Maltin’s chest and Kir let his own tension ease when even the complete distraction and evident terror Maltin was coming down from didn’t bring the firestorm back. Jaina had evidently been waiting for the same thing as it was only after those first few moments that she made a sharp gesture with her hands and the buzz of power from the containment ward started to fade.

Anur’s hand settled on his shoulder, his brother murmuring worriedly, “You’re all right yourself, Kir?”

“Fine,” he replied lowly, eyes narrowing as he looked at the Sun in Glory Maltin had flung aside the moment he’d remembered where and when they were. Henrick was crouching to pick it up, looking more than a little fascinated by the piece, so he left him to examine it in peace for a few moments.

If he kept a careful ear out for that song spiking against his senses, well – that was only sensible.

“This started in the _archives_?” Seras screeched, Rodri leaning away from the man with a horrified expression – evidently he had been explaining to Valerik what had happened and Seras had overheard.

Thankfully Etrius and Fabron emerged at a run and took one look at the scene, blatantly sagging in relief, before Etrius caught his mentor’s panic and hastily cut him off, “Seras! Father Seras, it’s okay! The books are all fine, I checked everything in the vicinity and made _sure_ Fabron caught all the traces of warmth.”

“We could have been out here _much sooner_,” Fabron said darkly.

“Father Kir and Kari were both with Maltin, neither of us would have been much help anyway, which makes the next priority the books!” Etrius snapped, his mentor nodding along and Anur cut off the exasperated sighs and rolled eyes from the other Firestarters with a barked laugh.

“When you put it like that, you’re completely right,” Anur said cheerfully, “I was really only thinking about how mad Kir would be if his favorite place in Sunhame burned down. So thank you both for making sure the archives were secure.”

Any reply from Etrius was cut off by his mentor hauling him into a hug and, by the muttering Kir could catch, offering heartfelt prayers of thanks to the Sunlord for getting him such a wonderful student. By the flailing, Etrius was at least a little embarrassed, or had some reason to pretend to be. Colbern was rolling his eyes next to the pair and patted Etrius on the head, the acolyte managing to wrench himself free of his mentor long enough to swat at Colbern’s hand with a scowl, and Kir couldn’t help but smile and knew he wasn’t the only one.

But back to the matter at hand.

Looking back to Henrick, he pitched his voice to carry and said, “If you hear any sort of singing – _don’t_ hum along with it, please.”

“Is _that_ what happened?” Henrick asked, fascinated and far from the only one, if the intrigued looks the Firestarters were swapping was any indication. “I don’t hear anything, so the point is moot, but how _fascinating_. That whistle we heard stopped them?”

“A _silencing_ gong, perhaps,” Jaina said, shrugging when the others glanced her way, “Kir’s suggestion. I’m honestly amazed it worked but it raises some _very_ interesting points.”

“Particularly in the fact I’m certain Maltin does not share the same Talent as Rodri and I do, yet can still perceive this song,” Kir agreed, waving a vague gesture of permission when Lumira reached for the Sun in Glory as Henrick started to offer it back.

“This song – oh frost it, I can’t even ask yet, if I get stories started they’ll never stop and Laskaris will be _furious_ to miss it,” Lumira grumbled, passing the Sun in Glory she’d already seen once off to Valerik, who looked to be sincerely considering holding it up to his ear before thinking better of it.

“When is he due in?” Kir asked, glancing around the courtyard, “He is the last of us to arrive – he was stopping by one of the mercenary groups on the way back from Vondera, right?”

“The ones helping with a pirate issue before moving on to the Ancar border – they wanted to stay close to Ruvan and Jkatha for the first few months of their contract to ensure they had an escape route ready,” Jaina grimaced, “Not that I can blame them.”

“That batch?” Seras snorted, “I’m amazed they even _considered_ a contract, they were actually directly involved in the whole fake-bandit mess a decade and change ago. Brynhild was a _nightmare_, my only regret is I never got to her myself.”

“You know, if Markov comes back, we could pass off the alcohol that Demon Rider is owed to him,” Colbern mused aloud.

Kir wasn’t the only one to double-take at that, but Anur was the one to actually speak, asking warily, “I’m sorry, _what_?”

“Oh it’s a favor-swap of sorts we had with – ah. Likeminded colleagues. We’re all that’s left, at this point, but the priests and priestesses that were particularly bothersome to eliminate but _definitely_ in need of it got assigned values, and whoever got them without getting caught themselves received an appropriately rare or valuable bottle of alcohol. When we got word of Brynhild’s death by Demon Rider, we set aside a bottle of appropriately priced wine as a joke – but I don’t think either of us have drank it or given it to someone else, and with Markov living in Valdemar it’s entirely possible to have him pass it on!”

“I rather think they wouldn’t drink it, assuming it poison or some such,” Henrick pointed out.

“Also, Markov would never agree to stick around and watch their facial expressions, which would be half the fun,” Anur added.

“True, true,” Colbern agreed mildly, changing the subject and ignoring the narrow eyed looks more than a few of them were sending his way, “Anyway, Laskaris. He’s definitely _supposed_ to arrive today at some point, he prefers to have leeway in his schedule so he wouldn’t plan a route that had him arriving tomorrow, but who knows what part of the day he’ll be riding in.”

“Regardless, if he shows up and finds out we’ve started asking questions that prompt stories without him, he’ll be furious,” Lumira repeated, Valerik offering the Sun in Glory to Fabron who shrugged as he accepted it for a brief second look before passing it off to Tristan.

Kir left the others to their examination – he should have expected it, sun blessed steel was still a rarity, and this piece was a conglomerate of sun blessed steel and regular metals, yet even the regular metals had an odd sheen in the right lighting, particularly around the sides with the carving of one of their Order’s older prayers. Aside from even that, Rodri had designed and made this, and while he was still very young, to anyone with eyes it was clear he had far better than even odds of one day becoming their Incendiary.

It was just as well he hadn’t gone through with the sun blessed steel arrowheads as gifts for the Firestarters – with Maltin’s rather dramatic connection to the steel, it would be a definite safety hazard until they had a better grasp of what exactly the sacred steel could do.

“Maltin,” he said, waiting for the student to look up from his hands running through Kari’s fur before he continued carefully, “Can you still hear it?”

The teen nodded, eyes darting to whichever Firestarter held the piece now and practically wincing.

Kir hummed thoughtfully, because it was interesting that he could hear the Sun in Glory, but didn’t seem to pick up on Rodri’s bracelet or Anur’s small pouch of arrowheads. Part of that could simply be how much louder or distinctive the Sun in Glory was, or lack of experience on Maltin’s part, but was he even aware of the fact those other arrowheads were in the area? Perhaps he needed to know there was something to listen _to_ before he could perceive it.

Drumming his fingers on his knee for a moment, he stilled them and said, “Right. If you’re up for it, I would like to confirm that whistle trick works to end the flames. So long as you can _stop_ them, we can take some time to research and think over what we already know before progressing. I, for one, want to consult the Flamesinger records.”

“He didn’t leave a journal, more’s the shame but perhaps the contemporary Incendiary’s logs and his monographs on lyricism hold references,” Seras muttered, Etrius responding with other suggestions in a low tone. Kir smiled faintly, because he recognized the titles they were suggesting and agreed with them entirely, and let his own attention remain on Maltin and Kavrick, both looking grim and nervous at the thought of bringing those golden flames _back_.

“I’ll call on them,” Kir said, smiling ruefully, “We’ll see if realizing how little of their song I was perceiving before this gives me better control of them, but as it is I can at least avoid calling quite so dramatic a firestorm. Rodri?”

Looking over his shoulder, he managed to avoid frowning because that would give his student the wrong idea, but he looked far more subdued than the circumstances warranted and had apparently been answering Tristan’s questions on the Sun in Glory’s forging with little of the enthusiasm he’d shown any other time the topic was brought up.

“Yes, Father Kir?” Rodri asked, perking up slightly at his regard, which was as confusing as it was heartening, to be honest.

“I’d like you to listen for this too,” he continued, before huffing a laugh and saying, “Without concentrating _too_ hard, mind, unless you’ve managed to not murder any rosebushes in the past moons.”

“Define murder,” Rodri said, coughing into his hand at the chuckles that remark netted, nodding and saying, “I’ll see if I can hear it, Father Kir. I _can_ always hear sun blessed steel, when I can see it or know it’s there.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Kir muttered, realizing he hadn’t been taking advantage of Rodri’s evident predilection for sun blessed steel, not in the context of getting him regularly _listening_ without setting things on fire on accident. He’d have to think over potential exercises.

Ignoring Rodri’s wary glance – it was _entirely_ undeserved, despite Anur’s snicker – he let his eyes slide half-shut as he gave the so very light touch those golden flames needed, and when they shimmered into being over his and Anur’s skin he focused first on ensuring they weren’t expanding further and then tried to properly _listen_. It took a moment – it was something out of range, out of his reach, until he finally managed to convince himself it was _there_, he _knew_ it was there and then –

He exhaled slowly, opening his eyes fully as the golden licks of fire condensed down to a familiar cord tangled between his fingers, following the motions of his hand as he worked the first of the cat’s cradle sequence, the cord moving for all the world as if there was an invisible set of hands working the fire-string with him.

There wasn’t, of course, it was all his mind and his hands were moving entirely independent of the flames, only following the motions the flames implied because it was meditative and excellent practice on not burning flesh despite close proximity.

He was glad Rodri had adopted this exercise as an ultimate goal – it was a fond thought that maybe one day the two of them could have enough control, and enough synchronity, to actually play cat’s cradle with a cord of fire.

Slipping his fingers free of the cord, he collapsed it into an orb before letting it take a relatively free-form shape above his hands. When he was confident that was steady, that he wasn’t going to lose hold of it, he looked at Maltin and Kavrick – the latter looked flabbergasted, which was fair enough he hadn’t exactly performed these flashy exercises in front of everyone before and they were hard to describe verbally. Maltin just looked terrified.

“Think you can find that whistle again?” he asked patiently.

Maltin’s hands were shaking in Kari’s fur, but he took a deep breath and nodded nonetheless, brow furrowing as he quietly tested tones. It was fascinating to feel the fire flare and dull against his senses in direct response to Maltin’s _whistling_, even if his low volume and lack of intent was keeping the reaction relatively small. He hadn’t paid enough attention to Maltin’s flames to know if all fires he worked were so sensitive to his music, but he rather doubted it. The clashing whistle to put the fires out wouldn’t be such a surprise if that was the case.

He had so many _questions_.

Finally, Maltin seemed to decide he had the right one, and let loose a piercing whistle just a little different from the last one, but it did the exact same job and the golden flames Kir had held dancing in the air vanished like they had never been.

He could still hear scraps of their tune though – he suspected he would always be able to, now, much as he always heard the potential for fire underlying everything.

At least now he was properly _hearing_ them though, Sunlord no wonder he had such trouble controlling them earlier, he'd only been hearing and working with _part_ of the entire chorus and leaving the others by the wayside to do what they wanted until he brought his attention to bear on them – and undoubtedly let the ones he had already quieted loose again.

“Well done,” he said sincerely, smiling at Maltin’s painfully obvious relief, “Very well done indeed.”

Checking the angle of the sun, he raised an eyebrow and clapped his hands together briskly as he stood, “Right! Anur and I actually need to unpack, we never quite managed that, and if I could have that Sun in Glory back, Jaina. Maltin, Kavrick, we’ll need to set up a time starting tomorrow to work with these flames, after some of the archives have been consulted, and if someone wouldn’t mind ensuring Laskaris is caught up on this whenever he arrives I would appreciate it. Rodri – with us, please, I’d like to discuss an idea I just had.”

Not true, not really. But Rodri was still more subdued than his usual, Anur had murmured something about potentially bruised ribs, and he had a suspicion as to what this was about. Rodri had been the one to point out that the Sun in Glory sang, and had been watching Maltin’s initial examination of the piece with quite a bit more intent than could be considered expected.

Even if he hadn’t been hoping Maltin could hear that song, had perhaps guessed that he would be able to influence flames through music and steel in some way, the fact that Rodri was the driving force behind crafting the piece that had triggered this firestorm could be more than enough for guilt.

No one looked askance at the statement though, and Rodri reached his side at the same moment Jaina handed the Sun in Glory over. Settling it around his neck, he made to turn to Rodri and go but Jaina’s hand on his arm gave him pause and he met her gaze curiously.

She smiled, saying, “Before we keep plunging inexorably forward – the visit went well?”

Kir didn’t bother hiding his smile, and knew Anur was echoing it. Worries for the future aside, worries for how the next reforms would hit his family, the mere fact that he _was _worried about that, that he _could_ worry about that, was reason enough for his answer.

“The visit went _fantastically_.”

  
  


“_So does that count as accidental discovery or a student being in the middle of it?”_

“_Both – so you’re the one stuck with all the chores at the moment, Lukas.”_

“_Oh please, this is only the first page of the letter, I like my odds just fine!”_

“_Devin, put that paper back on my desk! You can take notes later!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! And I'm still chugging along writing the rest of the story so I think we _might_ be in the clear! The golden flames - and the connection to Flamesinger - are going to be a running theme/element for a while, even if we do get a lot of the exploration etc. out in this story. Also, the Dinesh Peanut Gallery really needed their moment to shine, hope the formatting made sense!
> 
> Also - I figured out why RTF was giving me so much trouble, and I feel real dumb about it. Tablets are not equivalent to computers.
> 
> That's it. That's the moral of the story. Don't try and use RTF to copy paste things from a tablet. Unless you like manually inputting html code for formatting, I guess?


	3. Immediate Aftermaths

He was so _cold_.

Rodri rubbed at his chest as he followed Father Kir and Enforcer Anur up the stairs, the two of them picking up their saddlebags from where Kari deposited them and talking in low tones about the golden flames that had – that he had –

Choking on a sob, he didn’t quite manage it quietly and his teacher whirled around, saddlebags shoved at his Enforcer and Rodri quickly found himself wrapped in a firm embrace, face buried in a thick woolen coat that smelled like horses and sage and fire.

He managed to keep his breakdown to mostly quiet tears.

“Easy, easy, Rodri,” Father Kir murmured, one near overly warm hand curling around the back of his neck, “You’re all right, and so is Maltin.”

Of _course_ he knew why Rodri was so upset.

“I could have _killed him_!” Rodri sobbed, not even bothering to restrain himself this time, shuddering as he cried, “He could have – I just wanted him to _hear_, I just – I wanted him to hear music in fire because he _loves_ music and I could have _killed him _he would have – if you hadn’t –”

“Come on, all the way to the office,” Enforcer Anur murmured, Rodri half-stumbling as Father Kir guided him down the corridor, arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders and just listening as he rambled, “He would have died and it would have been _my fault_ and the song was so _pretty_ and now he’s so scared and Kavrick was scared and _I was so scared Father Kir_.”

“Of course you were scared,” Father Kir said firmly, sitting down on the office’s one small couch and pulling him into another hug, Rodri burying his face in his teacher’s chest.

“Of course you were scared,” Father Kir repeated more gently, “Your pistachio incident aside, you’ve never seen flames truly out of control, and that was you in the heart of it, not a friend you had hoped to help. Rodri there was _no way_ to know that this would happen when Maltin hummed along to that song we hear, understand? None at all – if you had told me you wanted to see if Maltin could hear it, I would have been just as intrigued and we would have gone through the exact same motions, I would have just been paying more attention from the outset – there would still have been a firestorm of golden flames, I would still have dragged him out of there with Kari’s assistance, and Kavrick and Maltin and you would have all still been terrified. I certainly would have seen no problem with conducting the whole experiment in the archives! He uses only a little magic and mostly ordinary kindling for his flames, the thought that he would be able to accidentally call a firestorm by _humming_ sounds absurd. Is absurd.”

“Our _lives_ are absurd,” Enforcer Anur muttered, Father Kir chuckling with what could only be agreement.

Rodri let the words, the reassurance, sink in, matching his breathing to the rise and fall of Father Kir’s chest and trying to believe that there wasn’t any way he could have prevented this. Trying to remember, to _believe_, that all things considered there really wasn’t anything for him to have _prevented_. No one was injured. No one was dead.

But Maltin had stared at fire and been _scared_ because of something _he_ had done.

“You’re shivering,” Father Kir said abruptly, Rodri suddenly feeling something _shift_ in the air when it warmed around them. It wasn’t – he didn’t _hear_ anything, like Father Kir said he did. Like he himself did, around sun-blessed steel. But there was something there that he noticed, and noticed before the actual warming.

“It is cold outside,” Enforcer Anur commented, but by the sounds he was moving around and gathering mugs of water for tea.

“I was scared,” Rodri mumbled, finally noticing his own shivers. He had been cold, he had noticed that, but it was winter and he was scared so of _course_ he was cold. He hadn't thought he was cold enough to shiver yet though.

There was an abrupt silence.

“Rodri,” Father Kir said carefully, “What does your being scared have to do with being cold?”

“It doesn’t happen to you?” Rodri asked, shifting so he could look at Enforcer Anur but not actually leave Father Kir’s hold.

The guardsman raised an eyebrow at him, poking through a box of teas, before humming thoughtfully and saying, “The _lothga_, then? Rodri, that thing never truly – I never truly went _under_, it never really caught me. I was – I was cold. I was _terrified_. But it was very brief, before Kir came in with fires blazing and we managed to kill it.”

“Oh,” Rodri said blankly, hesitating before pressing on, “You don’t – have nightmares?”

“Oh I do,” he replied, apparently choosing tea for all three of them and dropping satchets in now steaming water before sitting on Father Kir’s other side, two mugs set on the low table in front of them and one staying in his hands. Brown eyes flicked between him and Father Kir, a faint smile appearing as he continued, “I wake up terrified about not being able to hear anyone, especially Kir.”

He tapped at his temple, showing it wasn’t the physical sort of quiet he found so nightmarish.

“I – I was cold. It was just foggy and cold and I was alone and scared but my sister was in trouble and – I had to find her, and help her, but it was foggy and cold and – and it was my fault!” Rodri felt his words trip over themselves, practically babbling as he shuddered, burying his face in Father Kir’s chest again and so very _glad_ the air was practically summer-warm around them. The _lothga_’s dreams had been nothing but chilled.

There had been no fire. No sunshine. Just an endless cold grey.

“Oh, great, just what I needed, variety for my own nightmares,” Enforcer Anur mumbled, Father Kir snorting but not saying anything himself, just wrapping his arms tighter around him and keeping the air so very warm.

Rodri finally stopped feeling chilled, finally stopped feeling like he was only a bare step away from shivering, when Father Kir finally spoke.

“You feel guilty for the _lothga_ then?” he asked.

“I know there wasn’t anything I could do,” Rodri said, feeling exhausted, “I _know_. But I still – my sister could have _died_. Synia could have died. Anira wouldn’t have even been _born_ and I was the first one it caught! I was the one it followed back to the village!”

Father Kir only hummed, pulling back from him to pick up a mug and press it into Rodri’s hands. He didn’t quite want to, but he took the hint anyway and accepted the mug, shifting so he was instead sitting pressed against Father Kir’s side, glad that his mentor kept one arm over his shoulders while the other picked up his own mug of citrus tea.

“I understand why you would feel guilty for that – for that and for Maltin’s situation both,” Father Kir said finally, giving him a rueful smile as he continued, “And logic is very hard pressed against guilt. We will simply have to keep reminding you until you are able to believe it. One thing that I have always found helps against that sort of guilt is working to ensure it can’t ever happen again, or at least working to _prevent_ it ever happening again. Being a Firestarter and working against blood mages is one way – but something I’d like you to learn regardless is mental shielding. If you ever get attacked by a _lothga_ or similar creature again, shields will give you a better chance at noticing it, and if you notice it, you can fight it – or at the very _least_ call for help and give warning.”

Rodri could feel his heart rising as the explanation went on, because that – that sounded _perfect_. Well. Not _actually_ perfect. But _plausibly_ perfect. It also sounded like something that would be useful against far more than just the _lothga_, and Lumira had made mention of the proposal for mental shielding to become part of the usual childhood lessons along with Writ and Word. If that was this – he would need to learn it anyway. The fact that it could help against the _lothga_, that he might be able to fight those creatures off if they ever attacked him again, just meant he was going to be a _very_ dedicated student.

“I’ll try to figure out how to teach it,” Father Kir said, smiling ruefully, “It might need to wait until we ride north though, and we’ll have you accompany us with Kari bringing you back if no one is available to meet us and trade off – the way my own shields work relies heavily on that sense for flames and flammability we’ve been working on getting you to sense more regularly – and if these shields work similarly for you, you might end up with a bit of a breakthrough on that front. A crowded city like Sunhame would be – less than ideal, for that sort of development.”

“I – kind of hope it doesn’t work that way for me?” Rodri winced, remembering discussions over the year about this sense Father Kir had for flammability, for _heat_, even, and how he perceived it as noise. “I don’t – I wouldn’t say I _love_ Sunhame, but I like Sunhame, and don’t want to not like it because it’s so loud?”

Enforcer Anur made an amused noise, saying, “Rodri, Kir dislikes Sunhame for far more than just noise. Flammability and mental presences both, though to be fair, Kir, I don’t think you sense those in truth, not unTalented minds, at least. Given what those other reasons _are_ – I rather hope you never truly dislike Sunhame either.”

Rodri blinked at that, before wrinkling his nose and taking a sip of his tea, saying, “Fair enough.”

It had taken trying to relay Father Kir’s tips and tricks to his family – which, once you unwrapped them from the entertaining stories of scaring acolytes into thinking the crypts were haunted, boiled down to tips for getting around the Temple District unseen, for slipping down to the forge with minimal people spotting them, for the right corners of the library to always be within sight of the right sort of archivists – for how to _identify _the right sort of archivists – to realize exactly how _strange_ it was that Father Kir knew all of this. That Father Kir assumed all of this was information he might _need_.

He had already heard some of it from Maltin, and Etrius was very good at being subtly _present_ without truly lurking. But he had been lucky to have those protectors practically from the outset, he had only been in the general student pool for a week before the Firestarters swooped in to ask questions about the _lothga_, about this knack for fire they heard he had and oh yes, obviously that was exactly the same as Father Kir’s own knack, oh you’ve met him? How fortunate! Welcome to the Order, here are the other students, you’ll undoubtedly be trained by our Incendiary when you become an acolyte in full.

And – well. None of that was wrong, even after and in the midst of Solaris’ revolution.

“If you ever think you’re approaching that point, just let us know,” Enforcer Anur offered cheerfully, Father Kir properly laughing now and Rodri had to grin, because he knew _exactly_ what the Enforcer was plotting.

“To return to what brought us here,” Father Kir said, taking a sip of his tea and making a face as he set it back down and fished the teabag out. “Gah. Oversteeped – I really need to get better about that. Anyway. Rodri, while Maltin was, reasonably, terrified by what happened, we will certainly be working with those flames for the next few days and hopefully have him at least confident he can immediately put any such flames _out_ before the three of us ride north. To that end, I’d like to ask – did you hear the flames as you do the Sun in Glory?”

“Less complete,” Rodri reported, brow furrowing as he listened to the singing amulet again, “The Sun in Glory is – the whole chorus. I can hear everything. The flames were – as if I was walking around and the choir was in the distance, I would always hear _something_, but different pieces were louder or quieter.”

“Much the same as me, at first. Always hearing the whole chorus is going to take some more practice,” Father Kir informed him, Rodri giving him a startled glance because he had thought – well. Father Kir had been doing this so long!

Father Kir smiled at him, eyes crinkling as he said, “While I appreciate the surprise, I don’t know everything Rodri, we’re rather writing the text as we go, the lot of us. Our own Talent, for one, then sun blessed steel in and of itself as something outside of legends, and then this piece you crafted and golden flames I only stumbled into after watching Kari appear in fire more than a few times? I’m learning as much as you are!”

“Not _as _much,” Rodri replied, grimacing, “I had my tithe assessment exam today. I was checking my notes to see if I made any really terrible mistakes when you arrived.”

“I am so glad I got out of most of those,” Father Kir snorted, Rodri perking up and staring at his mentor hopefully.

Father Kir laughed at him again and ruffled his hair, saying, “Because I was trained as a witch-hunter, Rodri, which you will _not _be, I had to argue for classes that didn’t directly relate to witch hunting and preparing for it. The only reason I managed to take _any_ tithe assessment classes was because of some argument I made with heresy first presenting itself in subtle ways – including giving substandard tithe offerings.”

“Why would you _argue_ for tithe assessment courses?” Rodri demanded, aghast, because those classes were difficult and so very _boring_.

Father Kir hesitated, before admitting carefully, “Rodri – I _love_ fire. That has never truly changed. I _hated_ burning people alive. I still do. I always will. Any classes I could take that had nothing to do with that – of course I was interested. And once I was in them, I could justify putting in a tremendous amount of effort into the courses so I would excel, because if I excelled in those sorts of classes, of course my peers would assume that translated into a general superiority and right to judge them, when the time came for me to police the priesthood.”

“That being said,” he continued, voice turning dry, “I didn’t protest too hard when Verius insisted that only the two introductory overview courses were necessary.”

Rodri paused at that, realizing again that – he had never seen someone burn. It had always been _there_, as a possibility, as a thing that could happen. But he had never seen it. Fire had never hurt him, or someone he cared about, until today, when Maltin had stumbled into a firestorm and stared at fire like it was something terrifying, like it was something awful.

“How do you keep loving fire when people are scared of it?” Rodri asked, calling a small flame into being over his hands. He was very good at this – he had started the day after the _lothga_ had died, and had seldom gone a day without holding fire in his hands. It was the only thing that would never happen in one of his nightmares.

His sister had seen him do it before he was claimed for the priesthood. No one else had, and he wondered what would have happened if he had shown his parents what he could do, wondered if they would have been scared. Lira had spotted the small fire and looked immediately relieved and hugged him the moment it was gone, saying she was glad he could fight off the monsters.

It hadn’t ever really sunk in until after Solaris, until he’d been cornered on the way to Axeli and people had been so _angry_, had been so _afraid_, that he had really realized that – Firestarters weren’t heroes.

Not anymore.

“I found stories of our heroes,” Father Kir said quietly, “I reminded myself that burning witches wasn’t all burning children, wasn’t all just politics and innocents and wrong. That there was evil out there for us to burn, it was just not the evil that Sunhame said it was. I worked in the forges, and focused on details of making shapes, of listening to the fire that everything held, once I heard it. I reminded myself that there were lamps and lanterns and bakers and smiths and all sorts of fires that were used to create, or to offer light or warmth. Rodri, burning people is so very _little_ of what fire does. It is just so very awful that it is impossible to forget and very hard to see past.”

Rodri nodded thoughtfully, snuffing the small flame and returning his hands to clutching his tea. Oversteeped, as Father Kir had said, but it was warm. Even if he wasn’t cold anymore, not with Father Kir next to him and warming the air with their Talent, having another source was nice. There was no tea in nightmares either.

Father Kir sighed heavily and said, “I had hoped we could go a few more years before you were reminded of that, before you ran up against what our flames represent for most people, but knew it was inevitable. If anything – the fact we can hopefully help Maltin past this makes it a softer reminder than the other possibilities, especially with spring coming on fast.”

“Ancar,” Rodri said quietly.

“Ancar,” Father Kir agreed, voice bitter, “And half the higher ranks in the military and Sunhame alike convinced that there was no threat, that he will content himself with fighting Valdemar and never turn towards us despite the fact that he _already has_ and did so _years ago!_”

“Kir,” Enforcer Anur said, the name evidently only meant to draw his attention, as Father Kir exhaled slowly and sat back, breathing carefully as his tea stopped boiling.

Other people would have been scared, Rodri realized abruptly. Would have seen that anger, seen the suddenly bubbling tea, and been terrified that flames would start crackling at their flesh or their clothes or their hair or their things.

Other priests, definitely. Maybe even other Firestarters.

“Father Seras said you were almost burned,” Rodri said, looking past Father Kir to Enforcer Anur and suddenly desperate to know, “But you’re – you were only scared of Maltin’s fires?”

“His fires – his _illusions_, to be specific – let me forget that Kir was nearby,” he replied patiently, “I don’t know if you remember that day in detail, but I stood off to the side most of the time. The only reason I managed to walk past those fires you and Etrius were working with was because Kir deliberately spoke to me and told me he was paying attention, he wouldn’t let me get burned. I’m scared of fire, Rodri, especially _sudden_ fire, fire I don’t expect, unless Kir is around. I know Kir is an expert, and knows what he is doing. I would never be willing to supervise one of your experimentation sessions without Kir around, for example.”

“Oh,” Rodri said, knowing his voice sounded small, because he understood, he even sympathized because between the pistachios and the rose bushes – he was very clearly not an expert.

That didn’t mean hearing it spelled out didn’t _hurt_.

“Maybe one day,” the Enforcer continued, clearly sympathetic, “But it will take time – a very long time, being honest, and that is for anyone, not just you.”

“That day _will_ come,” Father Kir said, utterly confident, “It will, Rodri. But it will take time, as Anur said. Time and work and _patience_. You will probably find quite a few people that take the same comfort in your presence around fire as Anur does me well before Anur has anywhere approaching the same level of faith in you, and that is not a reflection on you at all, that is a reflection on _trauma_. On years of nightmares, and the strange things we people take comfort in.”

Rodri nodded, because what else could he do? He hoped Father Kir was right though.

He’d like to have a friend like Enforcer Anur someday.

“So,” Father Kir said, redirecting the conversation again, “This was the last day of classes, then? Do you have plans for the rest period – that’s until, what, seven days after Midwinter?”

“Eight,” Rodri corrected, “Midwinter is on a Solsday this year, so seven days just lands us on a Solsday again. Etrius and Fabron usually go down to the southern charity temple complex a few days this season and they said I could go with them tomorrow morning – Maltin’s gone once or twice apparently but with what happened today – probably not this season.”

“Probably not,” Father Kir agreed, looking thoughtful, “The southern complex – north and south have the attached orphanages, right? With west being the charity division’s main records hall and emergency shelter?”

“Right,” Rodri agreed, “Etrius grew up in the southern one – I really think the only reason he even started going was to check in on the people he’d been protecting.”

“He does seem to have that tendency, doesn’t he?” Enforcer Anur chuckled, shaking his head, “Fair enough, and Fabron?”

“I think he just goes because Jaina prefers we don’t head out into Sunhame alone and now he’s used to going – I got escorted the first few times I went to Axeli’s, and that’s in the Inner circle!” Rodri hesitated, shrugging and admitting, “It took until summer for me to go to the forges alone.”

“Perfectly fair,” Father Kir agreed quietly, undoubtedly remembering the rather dramatic reunion they’d had almost a year ago. “Would you like to go to the forges this week? Axeli usually works every day up til Midwinter before he takes the rest period off – perhaps day after tomorrow? We should certainly update him on this whole golden fire business, and he usually has finicky detail projects to throw our way during the winter season.”

“That sounds great!” Rodri agreed, brightening at the idea of working in the forges with Father Kir around again. They wouldn’t be able to make any more sun-blessed steel – with the new golden flames revelation they probably wouldn’t be making anymore anytime soon anyway, but even without that sun-blessed steel forging required a lot more advance planning.

“We’ll plan on that then,” Father Kir said, before smiling faintly and asking, “So. Those assessments you just finished – how do you think they went?”

Rodri checked the angle of the sun outside the window before he launched into an explanation. He wanted to see exactly how many details he could fit in before they had to leave for the Descending and take full advantage, because he didn’t really want to have this conversation _again._

Father Seras asked after every assessment, and Etrius did the _same thing_, and Elder Jaina had checked in just yesterday, and honestly this recap process was more exhausting than the assessments themselves. But this was Father Kir, and he always looked so _happy_ when Rodri talked about his studies, or complained about his essays or just – or just _talked_, and he liked that.

Besides, now he could ask Father Kir about _his _classes and assessments!

=pagebreak=

It was a good thing Valerik was the one in charge of presiding over their Descending service today – having an ongoing rota was very useful, even if it was still more than a little strange to be in the congregation rather than leading the service. Fourteen years with only the _very_ occasional opportunity to attend rather than preside left all sorts of ingrained habits.

But Rodri was still attached to his side like a burr, and near a mark of relatively calm news exchanging and story telling aside, he was still pale and near shivering the few times Kir tried to let the air cool to its natural temperature around him. Rodri was already pressing his fingers against his own sun blessed arrowhead bracelet every moment he could, and by the flickers of fire at his fingertips he was reminding himself that fire was available, was an option, when it evidently wasn’t in _lothga_ dreams.

It had been nearly a _year_ since he first ran into Rodri again. Nearly a full _year_, and he was _surprised_ by the lingering after effects of the _lothga_. Not the fact he had nightmares, Kir could hardly expect less, but this odd relationship between being scared and being cold? That was new, that was unfamiliar.

He needed to check in with Jakyr Kalesh soon, to make sure there weren’t lingering side effects from the _bishra_ they hadn’t known to expect besides the obvious nightmares and potential lung problems. They had written to the man occasionally, and Devek Koshiro was also a frequent correspondent from what he said, but some fears were hard to mention in letters, even now.

Almondale as well, perhaps? Or should he delegate that one?

The service ended with one of the shortest possible dismissals, and Kir had to exchange a grin with Anur because they could guess very well why exactly Valerik wanted to have this over with as soon as possible. The Conclave started tomorrow evening, and after that he would be unable to slip out of the District for drinks until after Midwinter.

Rodri shivered beside him.

Upping the air temperature around him, he wrapped an arm back around Rodri’s shoulders and said lowly, “Still cold, then?”

“It’ll be over in the morning,” Rodri said, sounding resigned and Kir wanted to track down an already dead creature and _slaughter it_. Since that wasn’t feasible, he would instead remember this moment, press it into his mind, and wait until he had a blood mage in his sights.

Taking his Sun in Glory off, he dropped the amulet around Rodri’s neck and his student startled, hand pressing against the singing metal and giving him a bewildered look, saying, “Father Kir, this is _yours_.”

“Which means I can lend it to who I like, including my student, this talisman’s _designer,_” he replied firmly, catching Kavrick’s gaze as the man walked past with his own student under his arm and nodding at the man’s mouthed, “Meeting?”

Returning his focus to Rodri, he was relieved to see some of the tension had left with the Sun in Glory’s presence. At least it was reassuring to _one_ of their students. Maltin would probably have thrown it out the window rather than let it near him again, at least for now.

“Thanks, Father Kir,” Rodri said quietly.

“You are most welcome, Rodri,” he replied, “If there is anything else I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask. Are you going to be all right for tonight?”

“I think so,” Rodri said, offering a shaky smile, “There’s no singing in those dreams.”

“Hmm. Well, if you do need us, call for Kari and he can relay a message to us without you going anywhere,” Kir replied, eyeing the door Kari had just exited through as he continued, “I think he’ll be with Maltin most of the night.”

“Good,” Rodri said firmly, wrapping his arms around Kir’s waist and Kir returned the hug with ease after all the practice he’d been getting lately. “I need to pack up my notes and things in the library, but I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Of course,” Kir assured him, smiling faintly, “Have a good night, Rodri.”

“You too, Father Kir,” Rodri echoed, pulling back and only pausing a moment before he gave Anur a hug as well, Anur cheerfully returning the gesture and exchanging their own good nights before his student – really he mostly referred to Rodri as _their_ student at this point, he should really check in with Rodri if that was all right – left their sight at last.

“Kavrick wants a meeting?” Anur commented, “The office again?”

“Probably,” Kir agreed, frowning as he thought over what they would need to discuss and switching to mindspeech on the way out the door, _:Aside from setting up a schedule for practicing these golden flames – I think it’s time to bring up Bardic. With these flames manifesting with his music… we need Kavrick warned, at the very least, and I’d rather at least give Maltin the information, and perhaps announce it to the others as a possible explanation for the flames’ manifestation.:_

_:That could get ugly – Bardic’s a type of empathy, and you call empathy _heart-twisting_.:_

_:…What about heart-reading? And then Bardic could be heart-singing, and we won’t be so directly copying Valdemar – and won’t be using a word that’s already in our vocabulary besides, using Talent is rather annoying.:_

_:I think Gift is worse for that, but fair enough – and I like that they’re blatantly related,: _Anur said.

They had evidently chosen correctly, opening the door to the office and finding Kavrick already there, slumped in a chair with his face buried in his hands.

_:Could you grab us some of that _prodka_ Jaina tucked away?: _Kir asked, Anur nodding mutely and heading for the relevant shelf, Kir settling in a chair across from Kavrick and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. There was a faint rattling of the shutters against the walls – he would have to shut them when this conversation was over, the wind had picked up quite a bit in the last few marks.

“My first thought – after my heart finally let me think again, with Maltin safe – was on how to tell Fredric this story,” Kavrick said heavily, accepting a full glass from Anur and knocking back the entirety of his _prodka_.

Kir wanted to wince. Not only because of the pain evident in the man’s voice, but this _prodka_ was far too quality to treat like that. He’d only bought one glass from this distiller in his entire life, but Jaina hadn’t even considered something lesser when she had replaced her preferred honey-wine with his own alcohol of choice.

Pulling his flask out of his boot, he leaned forward to refill Kavrick’s glass with the mediocre liquor he carried. Both because he seldom cared enough to buy anything more expensive, and because it was an emergency accelerant. He wasn’t going to use _quality_ _prodka_ as accelerant.

Kavrick sipped this one and chuckled wryly, “Fair enough, Eldest. I should treat the better liquor with respect.”

“You can taste a difference?” Anur muttered, staring at his glass.

“If you can’t, you can just drink from our flasks, and leave the office bottles for me,” Kir informed him.

Returning his focus to Kavrick, Kir still hesitated before asking carefully, “You have made some decision regarding Loshern then?”

“He knowingly allowed me to put Maltin into danger, and utterly needless danger at that,” Kavrick said bluntly, “If he had even _hinted_ at having some doubts as to how stable the ward would be, depending on his wording I would have left Maltin out of the rite entirely but not bothered passing on the warning to anyone else. He did not even try. Considering the Firestarting Order a waste of effort to restore, to rebuild, without destroying everything and starting from scratch – while I disagree, I would understand that perspective. But our students? But _my_ student? No. Whatever understanding we had is over. Whatever _friendship_ we had is strained, if not entirely over. I no longer want to be assigned patrols that take me through that oasis town, which is a damn shame as Anika Brersi is a very impressive young woman and she was a very good person for Maltin to speak with. But other than that adjustment of patrol schedules, there is nothing either of you two need to deal with.”

“Understood, and easy enough to manage,” Kir agreed, relieved that this, at the very least, was resolved. “We won’t be taking any routes through there for at least a few moons, unless Anika Brersi calls on us. Anur is not well pleased with him.”

“I will kill him if he says the wrong thing, and I don’t necessarily want him dead,” Anur said placidly, passing his half-full glass over and Kir cheerfully accepted it, pouring it into his own before settling his hand back around Anur’s wrist. His brother’s mental presence was anxious, still on edge, despite being visibly relaxed and at ease.

Anur had gotten far too good at that, though Kir realized he had no leg to stand on.

“Fair enough,” Kavrick said, clearly amused. That amusement faded fairly quickly though, and his next statement drained Kir’s own growing ease away too, “Maltin – those golden flames. He worried briefly that – that the firestorm had been some response to _him_, as if he needed _cleansing._”

Kir choked on his liquor, managing to cough it down while Anur swore, and he scowled at Kavrick, saying sharply, “That is _absurd_.”

“I told him as much,” Kavrick replied, clearly distressed and of _course_ he was, his own student had thought that he was worthy of _burning. _Even if it was only for a moment, that was a moment too long, “Kari told him as much, thank the Sunlord Kari was there, I don’t think – I don’t think I alone would have been able to assure him he was wrong, not as much as Kari could.”

“Thankfully Kari was there,” Kir echoed, looking out a window at the truly evening sky. Standing, he walked over to that same window, gazing out over the few buildings he could see from this angle, the gilded roofs no longer gleaming in the setting sun’s light. Staring at his glass, he grimaced and continued, “If he still genuinely believes that – I do not know what we can do to convince him he isn’t worthy of burning, that he has no such stain on his soul, besides keeping an eye out for any chances to assure him of that fact and taking them. Depending on the depth of the belief, I do not know that Kari’s words today will be sufficient on their own. They will help, undoubtedly, but to end such a thought completely? Not if it has lurked for a time.”

“I swore to myself I would never turn my hand against an acolyte or initiate, I swore that to myself years ago,” Kavrick muttered, face buried in his hands again, “But those _damned_ yearmates of Maltin’s made that vow harder to keep for six years than it had been for the _thirty _since I swore it!”

“Fake-Kris quit, I heard, which means he’s technically neither,” Anur pointed out.

Kir was relieved that Kavrick joined him in staring, Anur looking between the two of them with a puzzled frown.

“What?” he asked, “I don’t know that I would genuinely track him down and murder him in cold blood, but commenting on his status isn’t too outlandish.”

“_Fake-Kris_?” Kir repeated pointedly, “I assume that is the one you stabbed?”

“Yeah, Fake-Kris,” Anur agreed, “I never got his name.”

“It’s Linus Vaustern, of the noble family of that name,” Kavrick said, looking reluctantly amused as he asked, “Fake-Kris?”

“He – ah, Linus, that is – he – this sounds worse for Kris now that I think about it,” Anur ended up mumbling to himself before clearing his throat and trying again, saying, “Linus had the look of a noble-born, and he was very… classically attractive? Pretty? If an ordinary person was standing next to him, no one would look at you twice? You both know exactly what I mean, anyway, I had a good friend growing up that was much the same. Wealthy family, very attractive man, but, unlike Linus, _not_ a completely terrible person. So when I intervened with Maltin that one time, I started mentally calling him Fake-Kris. Apparenty it’s Linus. Learn something new every day.”

“I like Fake-Kris,” Kavrick mused, “Deny his own individual personhood by calling him a pale and poor imitation of someone better. A good insult.”

“That is a lot deeper than I planned it, but I will gladly take credit for it,” Anur said, hesitating before continuing more seriously, “Kavrick, you think then that this – belief, of Maltin’s, is at least partially from that harassment?”

“Oh every child taken for the priesthood had at least one moment thinking they’d be burned,” Kavrick waved off, either not noticing or ignoring the horrified look Anur sent at Kir and definitely choosing to ignore the distressed noise Anur made when Kir could only shrug in response, because it had certainly been true for him. “Maltin should no longer think that though, particularly after the reforms, and the fact that it was practically his _first thought _is what worries me. That _persistence_ of belief, of doubt in his own goodness, of doubt in his lack of soul-staining evil, can at least partially be laid at those harassers’ feet.”

“Kavrick,” Kir started, hesitating and exchanging a worried look with Anur before continuing carefully, “When speaking with those returning from Valdemar – they mention a Talent that seems to be a – type of heart-twisting. Heart-reading, for a less negative name. It manifests in music.”

Kavrick had gone very still the moment he mentioned Valdemar, and his knuckles were white on the arms of his chair by the time Kir finished.

“When I was caught in Maltin’s working that one time – in those illusions – it felt similar to when I was caught by a rogue Empath out in the Plains,” Anur added.

“I do not dispute the idea that his harassers bear a greater part of the burden, when it comes to Maltin’s mistaken belief in his own unworthiness,” Kir quickly continued, “But we had noticed something _extra_ in Maltin’s music over the year, and tentatively identified it as this manifestation of heart-reading. There is nothing certain yet, and it is certainly not something we want to bring up to him without speaking to you first, but – Kavrick. Did you – or do you have reason to think _Maltin_ might – realize that connection? Recognize it? Because believing yourself – _knowing_ yourself – to be a witch is not easy to work past. I was… fortunate in that by the time I realized I wasn’t simply imagining the screams, I already believed that our definition of witch was wrong. If Maltin had recognized something uncanny in his music before these reforms…”

He trailed off, glancing between Kavrick and Anur worriedly. Anur was practically radiating distress even without their mental connection, so he quickly walked back over to him and settled on the arm of his chair, Anur burying his face against his side, breathing harshly. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, Kir looked over to Kavrick and wanted to wince at the stricken expression on the man’s face.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Kavrick finally said, voice numb. “I – I had never thought Maltin – I had hoped that he would never – Sunlord I hope he never realized that. I hope he never truly – never thought he was a _witch_, stars, not that. Hells at least as I grew older I was able to know that many priests didn’t bother persecuting people with my preferences, not unless they had some other statement to make or some additional power to gain. Reason to worry, to fear being found out, certainly, but not being told by all and sundry I was a manifestation of utter _evil. _But to know you had – we were your _nightmares_, Eldest, how could you bear it?”

“Most days, I did not want to die. Those days death seemed preferable, I had some task or obligation holding me to another dawn that I was unwilling to fail at, and in the intervening time I found other reasons to survive,” Kir replied bluntly, “To be frank, if I had not been exiled to the 62nd I doubt I would have lasted long. I certainly wouldn’t have remained in Karse for so long, if I had been required to burn those I knew were innocents in the course of my duties.”

Kir had never bothered with keeping a journal or some formal record of his thoughts until Asher provided the book and Father Gerichen provided the idea. He had no way to accurately remember what his acolyte self had hoped for as a post once he was ordained.

He was fairly certain he had ceased planning for a future outside of slogging through his studies the day Wes burned. Being ordained with his path already laid out for him, and that path requiring him to fight for the right to live because someone like _Phyrrus_ wanted him dead – well. Refusing to give that man the satisfaction of dying in a plot prompted or encouraged by Phyrrus’ supporters gave him long enough to find a foothold in the duties of a chaplain, to find some small satisfaction in the ministering he was expected to do, in the tasks he was expected to complete, and then it was all too easy to fall back into that habit of taking each day as it came and not thinking further ahead than that.

At least until he ran into Anur in those stables.

Carding his fingers through Anur’s hair, he returned his focus to Kavrick, who had buried his face in his hands again. There was little point in any of them continuing to discuss things, none of them were in a place to actually provide coherent ideas.

“If there is anything – _anything_ – you need to help Maltin, you need only ask,” Kir said finally, “I will need to work with him on those flames, starting tomorrow if at all possible, and if you think it will help, I am perfectly willing to try and approach this issue with him – with your presence or without, whichever you think will be more helpful. You know your student better than I. But that is enough for tonight, Kavrick. I have no idea how any of us will find sleep tonight, but we had all best try. The Conclave starts tomorrow evening after all, and we have a lot to get through.”

“Oh I have ways to make sleep happen,” Kavrick huffed a laugh, pushing himself to his feet. Kir felt some of his worry for the man fade – he looked exhausted, true, but he looked less burdened than when they had started. Than when they had _finished, _a few short moments ago. Something in his offer of support had truly helped. “My thanks for the drinks, and the discussion. Even if distressing points were made, they were needed. Have a good night, the both of you.”

Anur and he echoed the farewell and sat in silence after the door shut behind him.

Finally Anur shuddered and straightened, Kir looking down to meet his eyes worriedly and Anur smiled faintly, saying, _:Today – this whole blasted week – has been full of far too many reminders of all the ways you could have died before I ever met you.:_

_:And how many of these sorts of stories have I never heard of you by dint of never being in Valdemar to hear them?: _Kir asked pointedly, Anur scoffing and rolling his eyes as he stood.

_:Oh please, nowhere near as many as you, I lived a life filled with only reasonable Heraldic risk before I met you. Clearly you are the one who was cursed with an interesting life, and I am the poor sod who claimed you as brother and has been dragged along for the stories.:_

_:Oh _you’re _the poor sod? I rather think Aelius has a better claim on that title!:_ Kir retorted, leaving the glasses on a side-table for them to grab the next day and extinguishing the lamps with a thought, following Anur down the hall.

_:I do,: _Aelius agreed, _:I really, really do.:_

  
  


“_Do you think I can get a copy of those notes on tithe assessment? That sounds potentially profitable!”_

“_Now there’s the Dinesh in him – good question Devin, we’ll have to ask.”_

“_Well Lukas, not looking good just yet!”_

“_It’s been _three sentences_, Nana!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaaaa!!! Chapter 3, in December, as promised.
> 
> No bonus drama, but _plenty_ of drama aftermath and the start of what has ended up being a running theme in this story, huh. Just noticed that. Rodri had some things that needed to be said and Kavrick _definitely_ had things that needed to be said. Hope you enjoyed, and see you some time in January!


	4. The Plot Thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Subtitle: Better than Explodes, as Rodri Would Say)

Yesterday afternoon may have been unexpectedly dramatic, what with the golden firestorm appearing at Maltin’s _humming_, of all things, but there was no real reason to update Solaris on it before their scheduled meeting after Midwinter’s Day. Instead, Kir and he attended the morning Ascending service with the other Firestarters – Valerik was still missing, which made Jaina scowl, and Colbern presiding, which meant Tristan was also absent, and Laskaris had yet to arrive, which was worrying – before pulling the students aside for a quick discussion, Kavrick hot on Maltin’s heels.

“You should take this back, Father Kir,” Rodri said, pressing the singing Sun in Glory back into Kir’s hands, “It’s _yours_, and now that I’m awake I can call my own fire.”

“Very well,” Kir agreed, accepting the Sun in Glory and glancing Maltin’s way when he shuddered, smiling sadly and continuing, “I am going to have to insist we work on this, Maltin. It’s fire, and _fire_ is not safe.”

“First Truth,” the three students chorused, though Maltin’s was definitely the most dispirited of the lot.

“Precisely. Etrius, do you have an estimate on when you and Rodri will be back? I assume as you’re in vestments you won’t be accompanying them, Maltin,” Kir asked.

“Not this time, no,” Maltin replied quietly.

“We should be back from the city by Sixth,” Etrius offered, exchanging a glance with Rodri before replying.

“Then perhaps at Eighth Day, in the central courtyard?” Kir offered, looking between Maltin and Kavrick, “At least two marks before anything involving the Conclave will come up, it can at least give us a starting point. I’m going to spend the morning in the archives tracking down what I can think of for it and can bring that information back to you – yes, Etrius, I will take notes.”

“Thank you, Eldest,” Etrius said brightly, ignoring Rodri’s exasperated glance.

“Eighth Day,” Kavrick agreed for himself and Maltin, resting a hand on his student’s shoulder and murmuring, "I'll be there too, Maltin, if you don’t mind.”

“I’d prefer that,” Maltin admitted, glancing Rodri’s way and smiling faintly, “And I assume Rodri will be joining us?”

“Correct, but your own control will be the main focus. Rodri and I can work with these flames some other time, I’d rather ensure you feel comfortable with your own control first,” Kir replied, all three of the students nodding agreeably before making their excuses and setting off, while the two of them were able to head straight for the archives.

Seras had much the same idea, by the tower of books and scrolls he had built on one of the tables.

“All of these are Flamesinger relevant?” Kir asked, tone definitely incredulous, “I know he is one of our more popular stories but I didn’t think we had _that_ many texts referencing his lifetime!”

“Some of them are a stretch,” Seras admitted, looking up from the text he was skimming and taking notes from. “But as far as I can recall there were no explicit references to golden flames, not outside of literal songs, and even the references to sun-blessed steel common in his legend were bare scraps of story, not much use even in your reconstruction. Going far afield may be necessary.”

“Oh it will be, I agree,” Kir said, running his fingers along embossed spines and humming thoughtfully as he pulled one out of the stack. “And the main archives may have more hidden away. It’s – well. It’s a shame that there weren’t any hidden caches of knowledge here, but a full manual to golden flames as summoned by sun-blessed steel’s song would be a bit much to ask for.”

“And, Maltin’s distress aside, far less fun,” Seras admitted, a rueful smile on his face, “He’s terrified, and rightly so, but this year has been _fantastic_ for research projects. It’s the most fun I’ve had in ages, and far less potentially damning than plotting accidents.”

“Fair enough,” Kir said thoughtfully, looking up from the pages he was reading – from what Anur saw over his shoulder, it was in archaic Karsite and very poetic, and all describing fire burning on Ruby Lake. Anur remembered Kir saying that he suspected a major theme of Flamesinger’s story was strategies for ensuring flames were appropriately beautiful while pirates were burned alive on the waters, but he hadn’t thought Kir had meant there was quite so much _literal poetry_.

That Bardic Gift theory definitely gained a lot more traction with this, though.

Also, reading an entire _stanza_ about the unique interplay of roaring infernos and agonized screams with a gentle spring breeze to blow smoke away, all wrapped in the flowery language he personally associated with really bad love songs was a uniquely Karsite – and _immensely disturbing_ – experience.

“Yes that paragraph is rather unsettling,” Kir murmured, evidently noticing which part of his book had caught Anur’s eye and setting the text aside, a wistful smile on his face nonetheless, “The rest of it is very pretty, though.”

“Flame mad,” Anur said fondly, pushing Kir forward to actually take a seat and start taking his own notes before examining the stack of titles himself.

“_Historical Perspectives on Hymnal Design_?” he read aloud, raising an eyebrow, “That would be one of the it’s a stretch ones, I suppose?”

“There’s an interesting piece on why some Fire-themed hymns would be ornamented in gold while others were left as plain text or only basic ink which could be relevant, but yes,” Seras replied, drumming his fingers on the table and ignoring his books for the moment, focused instead on Kir.

“Yes, Seras?” Kir asked, not looking up from the scroll he had grabbed.

“May Etrius and I sit in on your sessions with Maltin and Rodri?”

“…some of them,” Kir agreed, meeting Seras’ gaze and continuing firmly, “But only if_ both_ of them agree. And Kavrick. I will gladly answer questions and go over what I said afterwards, if they prefer to have no witnesses. Our first one will be today at Eighth Day.”

“Perfect!” Seras agreed brightly, capping his ink and cleaning off his pen’s nib. “I’ll track down Kavrick and ask – _politely_ and with little to no pressure besides insisting on him taking notes.”

“I already promised Etrius I would take notes on my own research here,” Kir replied, sounding halfway to exasperated, “With this and your text on the Charter rewrite, exactly how many books are you planning to write this year?”

“At least three,” Seras shrugged, “Though I plan to have Etrius write one of them and be a major contributor to the other two, though I’d be hard pressed to have him _not_ do such a thing. If you’ll be taking notes here, I’ll take my and Etrius’ list of references to the main archives and try to get an idea of how useful they might be.”

“Then I shall not keep you, but do take notes yourself, please,” Kir said, returning Seras’ smile and inclining his head when Seras offered a slight bow. Anur simply waved at the most terrifying old man he had ever met – Markov _very much included_ – and waited until he heard the library door shut behind him before he spoke.

“All right, tell me which titles I should put back in their places,” Anur said, pointing at the stack, “Because this is _far_ too large a stack to actually stay piled nicely for longer than a few marks.”

Kir barked a laugh, and started listing off titles.

He was halfway through returning the first armful to their proper places when Kavrick showed up, evidently searching for them.

“Bellamy,” the man said, stopping a few steps away from him and hesitating noticeably before continuing, “If I could speak to you and the Eldest about Maltin?”

“Of course,” Anur agreed, “He’s at the usual table, I just need to finish putting these books away.”

“My thanks,” the man said formally, bowing his head before striding off.

Anur watched him go with a faint frown, sent Kir an alert, and then quickly went to put the rest of his books away. He didn’t want to miss too much of this conversation – and only partially because he was really the only one of them that had any idea what the Bardic Gift actually _was_.  
He had spent enough time in the archives now that he was very familiar with the cataloguing system, so at least the job didn’t take long when he was focused. When he wasn’t he had a tendency to get distracted perusing titles and topics he had never imagined having the chance to examine before.

But even with that, by the time he was able to settle into his usual chair at Kir’s side, Kavrick had received a basic explanation and was rubbing his face tiredly, looking more than a little resigned.

“It would explain – quite a bit, of how much more _immersive_ his illusions can be. It is – rare. But the few times we have practiced his music-based flames near other people they often show signs of – true alarm, true panic, well before the flames are actually near enough to harm them. Part of that could be his illusions, true, but usually those are not so – immediately potent,” Kavrick’s smile was more of a grimace as he continued, “I rather thought his knack for illusions would make him an excellent witch-hunter, when that was still our task. He would be able to scare someone into a life or death reaction without truly endangering them – so long as he could defend himself and was not surrounded by innocents, it could be very useful. Figuring out methods for determining which – which were witches, by the old measure, versus those who could or should be taken for the priesthood, or those who were simply good at reading people or something, no uncanny means required – that has always been very individualized. I had hoped we could use Maltin’s illusions as a basis for his.”

Kir huffed a laugh, admitting, “Trying to determine that distinction – trying to find a consistent methodology, something that didn’t contradict some other method deemed acceptable – was one of the final seals in my certainty that Talented people weren’t witches.”

Kavrick managed an actual smile, though it was rather wry, saying, “One downside of basing our educational system on _faith_ – inconsistencies and contradictions are considered tests of faith more than inherent flaws in arguments and therefore too personal to be discussed.”

“Huh,” Anur commented, “I never really thought of it that way, though that’s a very good point.”

“Oh not everyone does it,” Kavrick allowed, shrugging, “But it makes it far too easy to brush off arguments or questions about inconsistencies with things like ‘the Sunlord will show the way’ or ‘meditate on the issue, it is different for everyone’. Precise lists and processes are comfortable for people, they are safe, but any Firestarter worth their name knew that witch-powers were hard to suss out, particularly if we were also tasked with finding children for the priesthood. Some erred towards taking all to Sunhame and distinguishing the witches from the innocent later, others erred towards burning them all and letting the Sunlord sort them out, but everyone knew that distinguishing one from the other was _difficult_, though I doubt many truly thought that through to realize that it was actually _impossible_ because many times they were the same.”

“Not always,” Kir said, undoubtedly sensing Anur’s curiousity or even just seeing it, he wasn’t trying hard to hide it, because as horrifying as this conversation was to listen to, it was information he had never heard before. It was information he doubted _any Valdemaran_ had heard before, certainly not in the past however many hundreds of years!

Kir continued with a faintly dismissive gesture, saying, “My classes on selection processes were decades ago, now, and it was never truly my focus. But there were discussions of – not quite quotas, but close enough, and if you ignore the language speaking of advancing the Sunlord’s Chosen Few and offering children the chance to Explore Their Blessings – it was essentially a system designed to take a set percentage of each district’s best and brightest along with some chaff to serve as eventual servants within the District, plus some extras because at least a few each class would be burned as witches. The only allowance made for pulling Talented individuals had everything termed with phrases like Blessed Signs being hard to distinguish, evil hiding so very well, the Sunlord giving us chosen few the insight to hunt down evil.”

“Oh no you had one of the poetic believers,” Kavrick groaned, covering his eyes with one hand, “Gah, those ones were the _worst_ as instructors.”

“It made essay writing very easy,” Kir said ruefully, “I just needed to pretty up the same sentiments over and over, espouse my faith in the Sunlord’s Sacred Few, add some appropriately complicated adjectives, and I was done. Oh, and ensure my handwriting was elegant which took up more space on the page anyway.”

“Valerik ended up going the route of full calligraphy – the gorgeous artwork designs for the first letter, page-border etchings – he would spend a day or two each month prettying up scrolls and pages so all he needed to do was write the actual essay on his prepared papers. Of course it meant every essay he wrote started with the same few letters, but that was easy enough to manage,” Kavrick remembered, a fond ruefulness in his tone, “Also made it impossible for anyone to copy or steal his work to pass off as their own.”

“Always useful,” Kir agreed, tilting his head slightly and continuing, “You do not need to answer, but I must admit I do not understand your and Valerik’s dynamic, it seems antagonistic some days and strong friendship the next.”

“Oh we got off on the wrong foot, and now we simply find it easier to antagonize each other some days, but there is no true malice behind it. At this point I would say he is one of my closest friends, certainly closest allies,” Kavrick said, huffing a laugh and admitting, “He’s the only one that knew about my – preferences, aside from Fredric of course. He walked in on Fredric and I one time when we were all acolytes and proceeded to attempt blackmailing me into covering for some of his barfighting excursions – well. Not barfighting just then, but excursions into the outer districts of Sunhame with a strong preference for the dockyards.”

“You say attempted,” Anur said carefully, brow furrowing and exchanging a rather confused look with Kir because blackmail – blackmail with _lethal_ consequences, in the wrong ears – was not exactly a start to the sort of alliance Kavrick had described and even what they had witnessed the few times they were in the company of both of them.

“Well he wasn’t very good at it,” Kavrick said, lips twitching at the memory, “He seemed to forget that one person covering for him didn’t mean he could stop being cautious!”

“Got caught red-handed, then?” Kir asked wryly.

“His mentor got suspicious and found him trying to sneak in, still more than a little drunk,” Kavrick snorted, shaking his head, “Was absolutely _livid_ to find out this wasn’t the first time, and Valerik was nowhere near sober enough to keep his story straight. He ended up spending a year on magic-leashed lockdown.”

Kir shuddered and Anur shot him a concerned glance, Kir waving it off. Undoubtedly he was thinking about how_ he_ would have taken being put on magic-leashed lockdown, whatever that entailed. Nothing good, Anur was certain.

“That’s when he started the calligraphy,” Kavrick continued, eyes crinkling, “Nothing like watching the man you had lived in some terror of having breakdowns because he couldn’t leave the District for any reason whatsoever, even patrols. I ended up sitting down with him a few times – first to watch his suffering, admittedly. But – even with that, even with my practically laughing at him some days, he never sold me out. He never used what he knew to hurt me.

“Built up the courage to ask him about it eventually, and he said that of course he hadn’t, it wouldn’t be right. I had kept my end of the bargain, so he kept his. That sort of – militant fairness, I suppose, was rare. _Is_ rare. Between that, being close enough in schooling – and Fredric and I having agreed continuing our relationship was too risky, with our training becoming more advanced and individualized, so I had little to no distractions outside the Hall – well. We became allies, or at least not antagonistic, and it is difficult to avoid becoming somewhat friends with someone you don’t despise and have cause to at least slightly respect.”

“Don’t despise and at least slightly respect, is it?” Anur paraphrased, grinning at Kir, who rolled his eyes at him and returned the smile, “How familiar!”

“And here I thought it was all the liquor,” Kir retorted.

Kavrick huffed a laugh, saying, “You two really will have to go out drinking with him sometime.”

“Can’t yet,” Anur replied, “I want a bar fight or two, and Valerik still thinks we don’t know about the bail-out fund.”

“Though that might be changing,” Kir commented, looking over his shoulder, “Can we help you, Jaina?”

Turning around, Anur had to do a double-take. Jaina was wearing the clothes of a middling-wealthy merchant-wife – sturdy boots, thick woolen skirt with basic but decent quality embroidery, a slightly faded but still good quality coat with nicely carved buttons – most startling, though, were the marriage braids. It was a truly jarring look, especially on a woman he knew for a fact was unmarried and uninterested in ever being married – also rather amusing, as it was a distinctly Karsite custom. He hadn’t been around many women in Karse, especially married ones, but he had apparently thoroughly internalized that hairstyle as a signal.

“Valerik has yet to return, and it is a_ High Holy Week_!” she practically snarled, before very carefully breathing out and continuing with a gritted-teeth smile, “Care to join me in bailing out our _idiot older brother Val_?”

“Oh I am not missing this for the _world_!” Anur replied gleefully.

=pagebreak=

He somehow always managed to forget how much their uniforms changed things – walking Sunhame in plainclothes was a very different experience, which he intellectually _knew_, but it was something else to experience it. The route Jaina led them on ducked out of the District in the middle of Sixth, then following the Inner Rim Road – and managing not to get distracted in Seventh’s holiday market – before heading further out along one of the Rays and properly entering Outer Eighth.

This was apparently her usual route – her usual route, her usual exchanges of greetings, her usual under-her-breath grumbling about her idiot brother he had _promised_ this time that utter liar – and Kir exchanged more than a few bemused looks with Anur as they followed in her wake. It was one thing to hear joking stories and exasperated tales of Valerik’s bail-outs, but it was entirely another to actually _see_ Jaina in her guise of Jana, Val’s long suffering younger and far more responsible sister.

How long had she been doing this? Who had bailed him out before Jaina started?

He snickered at the idea of Armand doing this, and waved off Anur’s curious look. It would take too much explaining, and of the two people here, Jaina was the only one who would properly appreciate the utter _disaster_ of Armand acting as anyone other than His Holiness the Incandescent. Maybe some other time.

Finally they reached the Outer Eighth guard station and Jaina waited for them to catch up before heading in, the two of them trailing her as she headed straight for the desk sergeant, a man she greeted by name.

“Looking for Val, Jana?” the so-named Sergeant Oskar said, sounding amused, “Didn’t think he’d be here for High Holy Week. Let me check the logs. You men are with Jana?”

“Yes,” Kir replied shortly, not sure how Jaina planned to fit them into the story, because she very clearly had a plan.

Sure enough, she immediately huffed a laugh and said, “Our younger brother, Kir, and his sworn brother, Anur. First time in years he’s been able to make it back during winter and of course they get to spend their first morning tracking Val down.”

“Our day was so busy otherwise,” Anur replied dryly, rolling his eyes. There were a few chuckles at that, but the desk sergeant’s amusement was fading fast as he read whatever notes were in the log books.

“He’s not listed as in bail – doesn’t look like anyone ran into him last night, Jana. He didn’t send word to you he’d be late?”

“Of course he didn’t, why would he send word to me? I’m only the woman bailing his sorry ass out every damn morning,” she said, practically growling towards the end of that before sighing heavily and continuing, “Apologies. He’s just been so good about this High Holy Week deal.”

“We can at the very least put the word out to keep an eye out for him – and either give him a heads up it’s time to set his affairs in order or drag him into a cell to sleep it off,” the sergeant offered, Jaina agreeing to the exact deal they had wanted and filling out some sort of paperwork while Kir tried to figure out what other methods they had for tracking Valerik down.

He highly doubted Valerik had simply _forgotten_.

“Do I know you?” a somewhat familiar voice asked and Kir looked up, startled to see the Sector Captain was standing nearby, staring at Anur with a bemused and verging on perplexed expression on his face.

“I – you do look familiar,” Anur agreed, brow furrowing as he returned the man’s examination and ignoring the attention they were starting to draw, especially as Jaina had finished up whatever paperwork she had and was walking over to Kir. “But hell if I can remember where we know you from, Kir, any ideas?”

By the slightly stunned look in the man’s eyes, his name had been recognized, but that didn’t help Kir remember where they knew him from at all –

_:The Plains job! With the rogue empath, that’s the one you saved right in the gate!:_ Aelius cried, sounding rather triumphant and fair enough, that had been years ago and they’d hardly spoken to the man past that initial rescue and some debriefing.

“Marghi, wasn’t it? You were Senior Leiutenant at the time, congratulations on the promotion,” Kir said, Anur managing to hold back his enlightened, “Aha!” until Kir had actually spoken aloud.

“Thank you,” the man said, still sounding more than a little blindsided before near visibly shaking it off and continuing thoughtfully, “Actually if the two of you have a bit of time – I wouldn’t mind sharing news with you, you’re undoubtedly better informed on the northern reaches than I am at this point.”

“Probably,” Anur agreed to the latter, but waited for Kir to finish consulting Jaina before nodding to the Captain and accepting the first offer on their behalf, “And we’ve got some time, sounds like. See you in a bit, Jana.”

“If either of you two go missing before this afternoon, I will not be held responsible for my own actions,” Jaina said darkly, the chuckling guardsmen very much underestimating how dangerous that statement was.

“Perhaps Kari would know where Val is?” Kir suggested, Jaina sighing and nodding theatrically before actually heading out the door.

“My office then, if you don’t mind,” Captain Marghi said, looking far more at ease now that he knew who they were and the remaining tension in the room fading with his. However long he had been stationed here, his men knew him well enough to read his mood rather accurately.

They were led through a corridor holding offices and storage rooms and basic bunkrooms – nowhere near enough for the guardsmen necessary for a Sector Station, which implied they _did_ have homes in the city proper, how strange – before heading up a stairwell to a second level holding an assembly room with plentiful seating and desks, detailed maps of Sunhame and this sector in particular as well as the Sector Captain’s private office. The eight or so men working at said desks on paperwork or muttering to each other about patrols and patterns they had noticed looked up briefly, but quickly returned to their work when Captain Marghi only nodded at them. Marghi waved the two of them in and shut the door, bolting it before turning to them and hesitating before focusing on Kir and offering a more formal bow, saying quietly, “Your Holiness.”

“Kir Dinesh,” he offered, waiting a moment before continuing, “It is good to see you well, Captain, I am glad that – whatever damage might have been done was not impossible to live with.”

Any hope this really was just about a Sunsguard gossip swap warped straight into worry at Marghi’s hollow laugh, the Captain shaking his head and saying, “Not for lack of trying, Holiness. I was planning to go to the District in the next few days to seek your Order out, actually. I have – since that day I have noticed that the thought of suicide occurs more frequently than before – _absurdly_ frequently, any slightly negative deviation in my routine and I find myself halfway through plotting my own hanging it is – not a compulsion, there is no desperate desire to follow through, but I’m constantly _thinking_ on it and it is – it is exhausting, Holiness. The days it never occurs to me are few and far between.”

The man inhaled sharply and near visibly braced himself, for what Kir could not fathom, because right now he was simply horrified on his behalf.

“I do not have particular experience with the aftermaths of compulsions made by the Talent you were assaulted with,” Kir admitted finally, exchanging a worried look with Anur, “Though that sort of scarring – it seems consistent. To force someone to suicide – someone to whom the thought has not occurred, has not been lurking – so quickly as Ensign Nacht managed takes a lot of power, a lot of _force_. And the greater that effort, the deeper the furrows it digs in your mind, at least for standard compulsions and coercion workings, I see no reason that a Talent would differ from more standard mage-craft in that aspect.”

“You don’t?” Marghi asked, sounding surprised before wincing and sending Anur an awkward glance, “I assumed, I suppose, that – I wasn’t the only one suffering this.”

“I didn’t experience anything like that,” Anur said, hesitating before offering, “I do have mental shielding, though, that might have – mitigated things?”

_:Kir, I didn’t experience anything like this,:_ Anur elaborated silently, _:And I don’t remember Devek or Balin mentioning anything along these lines either.:_

_:I noticed – something like that, but they didn’t stick around,:_ Aelius inserted, sounding concerned, _:As a Companion I can offer some mental healing to you, particularly when it’s due to outside forces rather than – well. Rather than your own actually experienced traumas. I did so, but it wasn’t particularly necessary, they were already fading on their own, I just sped it up. But that doesn’t explain the other two.:_

_:As for your theory, Kir, I don’t see any reason why Empathy would act differently to mage-craft in that respect. With Anur’s… damage I was able to deal with, it seems likely that is the cause. For Koshiro and Sescha I have no idea why they weren’t impacted. Would they have mentioned something like this?:_ Aelius continued, adding, _:And the only thing I can think of as a definite remedy rather than – well. Whatever ends up being our best guess as to what these three had that the Captain didn’t and doesn’t is another Empath, a trained mind-healer. I do not know what the equivalent in Karse is.:_

_:Soul-healer maybe?:_ Anur supplied dubiously, _:Isn’t that what Loshern is training Anika as?:_

_:I believe so. I’ll ask Solaris – shame we can’t simply ask the man directly,:_ Kir said sourly before focusing on the matter at hand, and the man that was waiting for him to continue speaking aloud.

_:I’ll ask Kari for advice,:_ Aelius announced.

“It can’t only be that,” Kir continued aloud, following up on the part of the conversation Marghi could hear himself, explaining to the Captain, “Anur was impacted, but so was now Captain Koshiro and Second Scout Balin Sescha – neither of them have mental shielding to my knowledge.”

“Devek definitely doesn’t,” Anur said, raising an eyebrow, “Or Cora would have said something.”

“It’s unlikely he has mental shielding, yes,” Kir agreed, “The twins might have picked up something from their kinsmen but Koshiro, probably not. Also, try to remind me we need to follow up with Kalesh on the _bishra_ aftermath as well.”

“Those stories actually _happened_?” Marghi asked, voice strangled and he coughed when they both looked his way, the Captain bowing his head slightly and saying, “Apologies, Holiness, I – had heard those rumors, about a _bishra_ out in the mountains but had rather hoped they were just that.”

“They were unfortunately very real,” Kir replied, “I will reach out to both of those men and ask them if they noticed any such patterns and if so how they counteracted them. For you though – off the top of my head, I cannot think of an _immediate_ way to help. I can think of some that will take a bit of time to implement, and have ideas of people I can ask for more details.” 

“And I am so very sorry that it did not occur to me to reach out to you about this before,” he finished quietly, because he owed the man that and more. They had ridden out after that mission shaking the dust from their boots and never looking back, not really. Anika Brersi he had arranged to follow up with, Cora Varus he was planning to check in on this next trek north, Rodri he had spent moons fretting over and making arrangements for. But the men of the 83rd? Men so very similar to the ones he had spent years preserving and tending to?

He had not given them a second thought.

Some chaplain he was.

“I appreciate even the willingness to try,” Marghi said, sounding exhausted, “I was – worried that there was nothing. That admitting to – that calling it a witch-power, even just in that one instance, would end badly.”

“It would be corrected, but nothing more severe,” Anur said, shrugging, “We slip up still too, even referring to them innocuously, much less referring to an instance where such a power was the source of horror. Captain, what was done to you was _wrong_. The fact it was a Talent as opposed to mage-craft as opposed to some more mundane blackmail or coercion does nothing to change that – though to be fair, someone threatening a loved one or the equivalent would not exactly carve furrows into your mind but mage-craft,_ not_ unilaterally condemned in the old regime, would.”

“At the very least there are mental techniques that one can use even without a Talent of your own to help prevent such an attack – by Talent, at least – from succeeding again. Mental shielding, as we mentioned,” Kir continued, “I have never actually _taught_ someone without a Talent of their own but I know it can be done, and will gladly look into that for you as well.”

“I want to learn that,” the man said immediately, looking so very relieved even when all he could for certain be offered was a form of defense against future attacks, no relief from the scars he currently lived with, “I _need_ to learn that, please, Your Holiness.”

“I will ensure it is done,” Kir promised, another thought occurring to him and he added, “I can craft a magic-based working that will at the very least offer some defense in the meantime. It is not as effective, and I rather doubt you will notice anything different about your surroundings or your mental state while using it, but it will be something.”

“The enchanted Sun in Glory?” Anur asked needlessly, continuing at Kir’s nod, “Lumira mentioned wanting to ask about those anyway, apparently there was mention of making one for Laskaris as a bit of a reassurance? Could be a way to get more of them crafted quickly, depending on how long it takes to make one.”

“She would definitely be capable of making them, based on that spear she co-enchanted,” he replied agreeably, very nearly citing Jaina as well before catching himself, “Don’t let me forget.”

“Most definitely,” Anur smiled.

_:Eldest, Aelius just finished explaining and I believe I can help,:_ Kari spoke up, sounding justifiably worried. _:Not as well as a true soul-healer, you’re right to say they would be necessary for a full healing but I can at least offer some ease, I think.:_

“Ah. Captain, are you expected anywhere soon?” Kir redirected aloud, taking in Marghi’s rather bemused look at the sudden conversational shift and smiling wryly, offering, “A – well. More of an expert than me thinks he may be able to offer some immediate assistance. If you have the time?”

“I have a meeting here in a mark, not exactly enough time to get to the District and back – I could come after my shift?” Marghi offered.

Kir shook his head, looking to the corner when Fire’s Song blared like a trumpet and left Kari behind in golden flames. How had he not noticed that song before? It was so very _loud_!

“Kari can come to us,” he said simply, the Captain staring in slack-jawed shock at the legend sitting in his office.

“This is Honored Kari,” he introduced, Marghi jolted out of his shock and offering a deep bow.

“In addition to the potential immediate assistance, with Kari knowing your presence, he can bring you the shielded working directly once it is completed,” Kir said, Kari inclining his head and speaking himself now, Marghi inhaling sharply and not quite managing to hide his flinch at the mental voice.

It at least looked like a reaction borne out of surprise, rather than pain.

_:And, Captain, on seeing you I do believe I can be of more immediate assistance – at least lessening the trauma your mind has endured. It requires a similar degree of mental contact, however, so I can only offer this aid if you consent.:_

“I – what will it do?” Marghi asked, looking shaken and swallowing nervously, going to one knee in front of the Cat and focusing on Kari directly, “It will not – make new thoughts? Like these ones?”

_:No, Captain. What I would seek to do is – well. Fill in the furrows, essentially. They would not be gone, not entirely, but they would be less dramatic. It would make it a little less easy for your mind to follow that track so relentlessly. A little easier for you to turn those thoughts aside. Any further would require a proper soul-healing, which we do have the resources to pursue and will do so, but that will take time to arrange.:_

“And this assistance you can offer now, is it truly immediate or will it take time to recover from?” Marghi asked, eyes narrowing. His nerves had faded, which was a relief to see.

_:It would probably be best done before you rest or sleep, to allow things to settle properly,:_ Kari conceded, the Captain nodding sharply and standing again.

“Then I will wait,” he said firmly, looking between the three of them, “You honor me, truly, but I would not want to start this when I cannot in good conscience finish it. If it remains possible, I can come to the District after my shift to do this, Honored Kari – excuse me, I’m sorry, sir, is – are_ you_ the Kari that he mentioned?” Marghi was distinctly incredulous at the end, and took in Kir’s rueful smile and Kari’s nod with disbelief, continuing, “_Val_ knows a _Firecat_? Is this because he is your brother…”

Kir could practically see the man making the necessary connections, and was rather pleased when he gave a heavy sigh and asked, “Do you mean to tell me that Val – _Val_ – is a _Firestarter_?”

“I haven’t told you anything,” Kir replied blandly, Anur snickering while the Captain managed to restrain himself to narrowed eyes, Kir huffing a laugh before admitting, “He is a Firestarter, yes. I assure you he uses these excursions as stress relief and entertainment – never as some sort of patrol effort, though depending on the crime he stumbles upon, I believe he passes on the information?”

“If innocents – well, relative innocents, in those parts – are at risk, he reports it,” Marghi agreed, looking thoughtful, “And Jana is as well, then? Calling them your siblings isn’t even a lie, that is – well. I wouldn’t say clever, necessarily, but it is a satisfying play on words, Your Holiness.”

“I thought so as well!” Anur cheered, as well he should considering the sheer volume of times he’d side-stepped the literal truth with similar not-lies.

“Hmm. Stress relief, you said, sir?” Marghi smiled wryly at Kir’s nod and continued, “I’ll keep it to myself then. He’s gone to a lot of effort to be a familiar and utterly civilian face here – would hate to ruin it for no real reason.”

“I’ll inform Jaina – Jana – that you know of their status,” Kir said, “Hopefully you never run into a reason to properly identify either of them when they’re in their guises, though.”

“Oh agreed, I have no idea how that sort of thing would come up but it would undoubtedly be dramatic,” the Captain agreed, looking thoughtful, “Actually, sir, does this mean you do know where Val is? If it could be arranged for him to be found or seen about sometime today, that would be appreciated. I would not say he has friends here, per se, but he is definitely known, and at least some of the men will be actively keeping an eye out for him.”

_:Looking for him is my next order of business, I will pass that request along,:_ Kari said, tilting his head and offering, _:If you do wish to come to the District for this, you are of course welcome, but if you would prefer I come to you at some point this evening, I can also do that. Simply say my name – and think of wanting me there – and I will be alerted and come as soon as I can, or at least inform you of any delay.:_

“That – might be necessary,” Marghi said, huffing a tired laugh, “It’s nearly Midwinter, and it is _quite_ the pilgrimage year.”

“We rode in yesterday, trust me, we know,” Anur replied wryly.

“You say you’re leaving within a week of Midwinter’s day? You might want to push that back as long as possible, let the crowds disperse a bit,” Marghi suggested, before looking at Kir and snorting, “Ah. Never mind. Suppose your uniform would clear a path, reforms or no, Your Holiness.”

“It does,” Kir agreed ruefully, “Which on the one hand, I dislike, as the primary reason for it is fear. On the other hand – it’s very useful.”

“One of these days it’ll be out of respect more than fear,” Anur promised, bumping their shoulders together, “Might take a while, but it’ll happen.”

“So we hope,” Kir replied, smiling when Kari bumped his head against his hand for a few ear scratches before leaping into a sunbeam for an appropriately dramatic vanishing.

Marghi stared for an awestruck moment before shaking it off again and turning to them, offering another bow and saying, “Thank you, Your Holiness, Enforcer, for your assistance. I will keep an ear out for any information regarding Val.”

“Our thanks. If there is nothing else?” Kir prompted, the Captain shaking his head and escorting them to the door of his office, waving them through.

“We’ll keep an eye out for Val, and let you know if we find him,” he repeated for their new audience, leading the way down the stairs and back to the front of the building, “If you find him, if that could be passed along so we know not to spend effort on the issue, that would be appreciated.”

“Oh don’t worry, Captain. If we find him, I have no doubt Jana will be dragging him in by the ear to apologize to everyone for causing a problem,” Kir replied dryly, the desk sergeant and a few of the guardsmen in earshot chuckling at that, while their Captain looked bemused more than anything.

He was probably rethinking every Jana and Val story he’d heard and witnessed in light of their actual identities. It would take a bit of processing, but Kir was sure he would end up finding the stories even more amusing thanks to that.

They had barely made it to the first turn when Kari gave an alarmed call, _:I can’t find Valerik – but more critically, Rodri’s found something you two need to see!:_

Anur found a deserted alleyway for them to duck into, Kari appearing at their feet and barely pausing before starting to Jump with them in tow, and Kir couldn’t quite resist.

“_No curse_, you say?”

“Oh come _on_!”

_“Follow up – on mental shield necklaces – and soul-healing – exorcists…”_

_“Wow, Uncle Kir was really holding out on adventure stories!”_

_“Thank you, thank you, I will take my victory with grace and dignity befitting a – “_

_“Oh shut up, Lukas, we need to actually know what this all is before you can declare it a victory to you! Reacquainting themselves with a Sunsguard officer is hardly high enough drama for that!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter I've had some iteration of for YEARS. I wrote a sketchy version of this back when I realized some of Valerik's habits, and am SO STOKED that you finally get to see it.
> 
> You can also tell it's one of the ones I've been beating my head against, because there's a subtitle. I got more sarcastic and desperate with every subtitle I made, though Damn It Anur is probably the subtitle for the whole fic. Hope you enjoy, and see you in February!
> 
> ALSO! I spent... way too much time on the following diagrams/explanations. One of them is a rough map of Sunhame outlining the divisions (so the location "Outer Eighth" makes more sense), while the other is a outline of the Karsite timekeeping system (so that Eighth Day comment would make more sense), including when bells would be rung in larger towns (assuming 24 hours = 1 day = 24 marks, in the Karsite system). Are either of things actually necessary to understand/enjoy the story? No. Not at all. But I adore those kinds of details, so figured I'd put them out there for other equally detail obsessed people to have access to. 
> 
> Finally, I also wrote up an up to date timeline, with the modifications I intend to properly capture when I do the massive edit spree when this saga finishes. I also plan to update the timeline as we go along, and when I do update it I'll re-link the thing in the story. Which... huh. Welp, we'll figure that out when it gets to it.
> 
> If you're interested, check them out! Laugh at my geekery, because let me tell you, there were A LOT of drafts and handwritten notes and backstory/motivation snippets you will likely never see. A LOT.
> 
> [A Map of Sunhame's Sectors](https://www.deviantart.com/muerarashaye/art/Sunhame-Sector-Map-820860837) by MueraRashaye
> 
> [The Karsite Timekeeping System](https://www.deviantart.com/muerarashaye/art/Karsite-Timekeeping-System-Diagram-820860544) by MueraRashaye
> 
> [A Most Glorious Timeline](https://www.deviantart.com/muerarashaye/art/FAB-Timeline-Draft-Seasonal-Color-Coding-826660782) by MueraRashaye


	5. ...Still Thickening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Subtitle: More Flour Never Hurts, Right?)

There was no curse.

Had there been a curse, it would have only been put into action three days prior to all the events being taken as a manifestation of the curse, and while the golden firestorm could be argued, the seeds for these events had been planted moons, if not _years_ ago. But Midwinter was a High Holy Day, which meant more people in Sunhame than normal, more members of the _priesthood_ in Sunhame than normal, and cold enough weather that people tended to hunker down in their homes or the local alehouse, and wear bulky clothes and scarves and hats that would render one’s twin unrecognizable.

For the right sort of plan, with the right set of goals, it was the ideal time.

A man named Garth Nolans had hugged his sister last night, and known he might never see her again. She had locked the door behind him, and known that their plan might have signed her death warrant or worse.

But he had spent _years_ under Darius’ thumb, bowing his head to that liar Bertrand’s whims, and he and Maude had spent well over a year trying to get their hands on enough material and enough information that perhaps he could get out. Perhaps he could actually get them _dealt_ with. Emminence Solaris’ Ascent had been welcome, because her reforms were so very needed and the way she was restructuring the Sunsguard sadly necessary, but it had been _terribly_ timed. In the chaos of last year’s Midwinter, Maude and he had slipped up and Bertrand had managed to hatch a scheme that left Garth and Maude with no one who would listen and nowhere else to turn.

He had managed, between the connections he’d made trying to work around his masters and the very few who trusted him when he said he hadn’t wanted to be a monster, had tried to mitigate what his squad of bully-boys had done. Things hadn’t been going smoothly, he and Maude hadn’t been what he would call _secure_, but they were managing.

Then people started cancelling orders they’d held with Maude’s baking business for years and he opened a door to a meeting with an ally and found Bertrand waiting for him instead.

“You wanted to retire from the Sunsguard and be an ale-maker, once,” Garth told the man he’d just finished clubbing unconscious.

Being Corporal in a squad of bully-boys had been a nightmare, but one of the worst things had been watching the reams of newcomers get brought in with dreams of helping, with dreams of not being _monsters, _and get broken down into the same sorts of wretches they all were. He’d never been able to save them all. He’d barely managed to get _any _of them transferred out or injured badly enough they had to be off duty, giving him the chance to distract Darius.

He hadn’t managed to save this one. Garth didn’t kid himself though, if they both survived this he’d damn near kill himself trying again.

Frisking the unconscious man he found the keys he was looking for and the color-coded beaded bracelet that was far more important. Only then did he pull some of the hobbles he’d appropriated from the Sunsguard over the years and tied him into a securely bound but seated upright position. Would at least give a bit of pause to anyone who peeked down the passage.

Glancing over the door he needed to get through, Garth ran his fingers along the top of the door frame and counted the deep divots carved into it by men who had been asked to remember far too many things to manage without aids. Seven in a row, a gap, then three, a longer gap, then two. Right then.

He found the right bead to start – the bracelet held twenty beads, and the count started from the only wooden one. Insert the key and turn it once, hold the seventh bead to the first corner of the metal-plate holding the lock, go back three beads and hold that one to the next corner for long enough to turn the key twice more, then go forward two beads and hold that to the center of the plate. Wait a four count, then open the door.

Gah he had forgotten how _heavy_ these doors were.

Swearing under his breath and thanking everything that the hinges were at least well-oiled, he carefully propped the door open and picked up his small oil-lamp.

Hells, Val looked bad.

Nothing dramatic, no blood or even serious bruising, but it was damn cold in here and Val wasn’t even shivering. His breathe was barely clouding the air, but at least he _was_ breathing. Garth quickly did a check for less obvious serious injuries, but anything more was beyond him and leaving Val behind wasn’t really an option. Rearranging the bindings so Val wouldn’t be too uncomfortable or off balance if he woke up mid-carry, Garth hauled him up over his shoulder and headed for the door.

They had to get through three maintained passages, at least four not so maintained passages, and if they were lucky, he’d be able to use finding Val to get in the door, instead of having it slammed in his face.

=pagebreak=

“Tristan make it to the dawn service or are we lying for him?” Conrad asked, raising an eyebrow and moving over so Fabron could climb up on the paddock fence next to him.

“Father Colbern was presiding, his absence was expected on our end,” Fabron replied, rubbing his face tiredly, “Think anyone outside the Order would find it odder for him to be at the main service without anyone else. No one will ask.”

“He talking again at least?”

“Took a few marks and a few drinks even after you left, but yes,” Fabron snorted, shaking his head, “Thanks for helping with that last night.”

“Words are hard,” Conrad shrugged, “He can’t talk some days, and letters don’t stay still long enough for me to read them most of the time. His bad luck that he had enough magic it was fires or priesthood instead of getting to enter the service corps.”

“At least we’ve gotten him to consistently admit that the priesthood is preferable to the fires,” Fabron grimaced, shaking his head, “Depending on how this whole Hardornen border thing shakes out, he might leave.”

“And go where?” Conrad replied, “You at least could work with horses, you have something of a trade, but Tristan? What trade could he possibly fall back on if he left?”

“Don’t know,” he admitted quietly, “It’s why I’m hoping he doesn’t.”

Conrad and he had been yearmates, but with his difficulty reading Conrad had been pulled into serving the District without being a priest fairly early. Fabron had worried when he’d vanished and tracked him down; when he’d found out Conrad was apprenticed to the stables he’d been jealous enough he’d refused to talk to him for a few moons. Thankfully he’d gotten over that, having Conrad around and willing to put him to work in the stables had made these past years a lot more bearable.

Having someone on the outside to help with the forever ongoing fallout of the whole Colbern-Tristan disaster had been Sunlord sent.

“Hmm. Well, worst come to worst, send him my way more often and I’ll get him a solid enough grounding he can at least get _some_ sort of work with horses, if we don’t manage to talk him out of leaving,” Conrad said, hopping down from the fence and shading his eyes from the brilliant glare off some of the gilded roofs. “I assume you’re helping out today?”

“At least for a few marks,” Fabron agreed, following on Conrad’s heels.

“Good, then you’ll help me rotate the overnight pasture set and get the first gelding batch turned out. You can take the two beauties,” Conrad said, grinning when Fabron immediately perked up and picked up his pace a bit, because the Eldest and his Enforcer’s horses were _gorgeous_ and, strange bias against very light blondes aside, so well behaved. He wouldn’t actually try it, because if something went wrong he’d die of shame and possibly also just die, but he and Conrad were both convinced that if they just opened the paddock gate and the stall doors for those two, they’d happily traverse the distance with no escort whatsoever.

Maybe one day he’d try it.

Even better, since he and Tristan had spent a mark prepping all the grain buckets last night, Conrad didn’t have to supervise grain apportioning and could instead spend a few moments watching the new herd composition straighten out their pecking order – but really, watching the best two.

“I could watch those two all day,” Conrad said, giving an admiring sigh when the Eldest’s roan spun and launched into a lope for a few strides, coming to a halt next to the Enforcer’s paint with all herd-matters apparently settled, “They have _incredible_ conformation. Coloring too, which is a damn rare combination.”

“Whoever gelded the Eldest’s roan should be ashamed of themselves,” Fabron agreed.

“They should be stabbed,” Conrad scowled, “Stabbed for stupidity and never allowed near horses again! At least the stablemaster only suggested the paint after the two of them nearly broke down doors to attack the Heirophant, that sort of behavior can’t be tolerated.”

“Never happened again though,” Fabron pointed out, having asked after that sort of thing.

“Something’s odd about that horse – well, both of them, but that one in particular,” Conrad muttered, lowering his voice as he continued wryly, “Never seen a stallion so damn uninterested in herd pecking-orders, and the others _let _them stay out of it. Given, we don’t turn them out with mares or our few studs, just groups of geldings, but there should at least be some sort of re-establishment games with how seldom they’re here, but there’s nothing more than what you just saw.”

“Bizarre,” Fabron commented, brow furrowing, because there had been hardly anything. If he hadn’t known better, he’d assume this set got turned out with one another all the time and had the herd dynamics entirely figured out.

“Blasted _uncanny_ is what it is,” Conrad snorted, shaking his head, “Right then. A few marks, you said? I’ve got some hooves to take care of, you hold their heads and get me caught up on the latest Branahs gossip. Did Kevan ever get back to you on the roan?”

“Actually, yes!” Fabron replied, following Conrad back into the stables and exchanging nods with the precious few stablehands that didn’t shy away from him anymore. It had been a years long campaign to get a few to properly chat horses with him, though getting an in with the Brahnases had certainly helped.

When Lumira had truly realized how horse-mad he was, she had rolled her eyes and handed him off to Elder Jaina to learn about their Order’s long-standing deal with one of the finest horse-training families in Karse. The fact that he could regularly correspond with some of the _Branahs_, actually counted some of the clan’s cousins as near _friends_, never failed to make his stable-lurking child-self squeal with glee.

The fact that he could then leverage that letter-writing and almost-friendship to build connections within the District’s stables was no one’s business but his own. If he had collected the occasional story of other Firestarters the Branahs had met over the decades and used those fragments to build what he thought was a fuller picture of the people he had to declare kin, had to claim as brethren, that was also entirely his prerogative.

“Got six to trim today, one set of shoes. Let’s do the shoes first, it’s the liver mare with the diamond shaped snip,” Conrad said, strapping the leather chaps on and snagging a rolling cart with his farrier tools.

Fabron went ahead and grabbed his gelding en route, he was one of the six trims Conrad had to get done today, and took the time to figure out what exactly he had told Conrad, because it had been a few moons since they’d had a chance to properly chat horses, between his own travels and Conrad’s tithe-assessment season woes.

“Your younger set should be getting Branahs horses this year, right?” Conrad asked, checking the mare’s legs.

“Maltin at least,” Fabron agreed, “Plan to bring it up this Conclave. Hopefully I can tag along and actually listen in on the training tip conversation, because that horse has some top-notch training and he somehow managed that without any of the Brahnas foundation.”

“No way it’s the same horse, then?”

“None at all,” Fabron confirmed, shaking his head, “Kevan says the original horse was gelded young and far too particular about who he worked with to be truly useful for their needs, but still good enough he was a wrench to part with. With our assessment on how the horse moves and eats – not possible. The original gelding would be twenty-four by now and well past the point of pasturing. If he had to guess, he’d put money on the original being killed in the first five or six years, then replaced by the Sunsguard and trained by Father Kir to his old standards, and he’d also figure on that cycle repeating at least once.”

Conrad let out a low whistle, cracking his back after finishing the shoe-removal and trims on the right side and working his way around to the other, “Well, if you get to go, make sure you take notes. Would love the chance to hear how he trained two cavalry horses up to anywhere near Brahnas standard.”

“Oh I will take _all_ the notes,” Fabron promised, “Besides, I need to try and convince the Enforcer to accept a stud-fee offer from them.”

“Why wouldn’t he? It’s basically free money,” Conrad snorted.

“I know, I know,” Fabron sighed heavily, “But if I prepare arguments just in case, I’ll be ready.”

“Fair enough,” his friend agreed, “Well, we can give another attempt at getting a look at the gelding’s teeth, but…”

“Yeah, let’s not, I nearly lost a finger,” Fabron grimaced, “Of all the things to _not_ have excellent training in.”

“I’ve seen him tack that gelding up, he takes the bit with no problems at all and eats grain from the hand even. I’d bet the Incendiary just never trained him to tolerate multiple people, especially not with what you say about the original horse being particular. Might think it’s normal behavior.”

“Might find it _helpful_, even,” Fabron said thoughtfully, “I’ll see if I can work it into conversation. Anyway, what’s the latest gossip on this end? You manage to make sure Austreben got first dibs on this year’s tithe-collection?”

“I did! Ear to the ground says he’s found a good footing as a scholar, but damn if I wouldn’t like to have him working for me, he brushed straight past all the eye-flash and found the best little gelding, they’re going to go far together,” Conrad said, pulling a fresh shoe from his cart and checking it for fit.

If there was a better way to spend a morning than listening to a friend’s chatter in a sunlit courtyard off a stable, with all the background noise and scents that came with, Fabron had yet to find it.

They were wrapping up with the last horse when Fabron spotted a familiar face, glancing over his shoulder and smiling, “Laskaris! You made it in, then.”

“Just finished putting Breha up, yes,” the priest said, raising an eyebrow at him, “Am I good to walk straight into the Hall or were you lurking here to intercept me?”

“Not the original intention but it serves just as well,” Fabron realized, glancing Conrad’s way and his friend waved a hand dismissively, straightening and calling one of the actual stablehands over to finish out assisting.

“Between you and Tristan you saved me and mine a fair bit of work this morning, thanks for that,” Conrad said, “Keep me posted on the Brahnas trip.”

“Oh I will,” he promised, returning Conrad’s forearm clasp and handing the current mare’s lead off to his replacement before heading for Laskaris, falling into stride with him easily. Lumira had been his primary instructor, but she and Laskaris had worked together closely for as long as he’d known either of them, and from their stories they’d been working together since their unselected initiate days. Having either of them as a mentor essentially resulted in a co-mentor arrangement.

“So, what’s happened?” Laskaris prompted once they were out of the stables.

“There’s been an interesting development in Maltin’s abilities – have you gotten a chance to see any of the Eldest’s sun-blessed steel?”

“The arrowheads that were left behind as samples, a bit of time with that spearhead when it was being enchanted,” Laskaris replied, humming thoughtfully and continuing, “The Eldest has mentioned _hearing _fire, and Rodri talked about sun-blessed steel singing. That the connection?”

“Yes, and a fairly dramatic one at that,” Fabron grimaced at the memory, “It seems Maltin can hear whatever it is they do, at least with the Sun-in-Glory Rodri designed – ”

“Wait, _Rodri_ can produce sun-blessed steel? I thought he hadn’t even _started_ learning that yet!” Laskaris interrupted, Fabron quickly elaborating.

“No, no he designed a Sun in Glory where the rays are those arrowheads, he worked with those smiths they know to create a molded conglomerate piece, he didn’t produce sun-blessed steel himself,” he said, smiling faintly as he remembered Rodri delivering the gift, “It’s lovely work, he did a very good job with it. Anyway, Maltin heard the rest of us talking about it and the Eldest offered him the chance to examine it when they came across us in the library yesterday. From what was said… he heard that song Rodri and the Eldest hear and tried humming along with it.”

“All right…”

“Which started a middling-sized firestorm composed of purely golden flames that the Eldest sensed coming soon enough to call an alarm and keep Maltin from burning himself alive and evacuate the library via Kari,” Fabron continued, rather pleased with himself when Laskaris started spluttering halfway through the sentence.

“Enforcer Anur realized what was happening faster than we all did and started delegating, Etrius and I only made it into the courtyard after everything had been contained, but from what Tristan said they had to throw up a six-point containment so the Eldest didn’t need to worry about reining in the storm and Jaina had to head in to get Maltin responding, he was terrified. Interestingly, Maltin was able to dispel the firestorm by _whistling_ what the Eldest described as ‘the most jarring note you can find’ when compared to the song of the storm, and Jaina said he suggested a potential reread of Flamesinger’s saga where the silent gong is in fact a _silencing gong_,” he finished the summary, smiling and adding, “Don’t worry, no one got stories started. Lumira even said she couldn’t ask too many questions, because you’d be furious if you missed it.”

“I _am _furious I missed it!” Laskaris cried, “Please tell me they haven’t started training yet, I can probably find a good vantage point even if they don’t want observers at first.”

“Witnesses are up to Maltin,” Fabron replied, “The Eldest did seem more than willing to discuss things and do research with people on this outside of the lessons though. He apparently only just figured out fine control of the golden flames himself, they’re somehow distinct from everyday fire.”

“Fascinating,” Laskaris murmured, the pair of them walking in silence for a time while Laskaris thought all of that over.

“That means Etrius is the next one up for a dramatic disaster, doesn’t it?” he finally said, sounding a little whimsical, and Fabron frowned at him.

“Only if you restrict your pool to the students,” he replied, “But yes, I suppose Etrius is due. He hasn’t had one at all, from what I remember.”

“No he hasn’t,” Laskaris agreed, smiling faintly, “I’d have to consult the records, but I’m fairly certain if he makes it to ordination with the same record he’ll have the lowest damage-repair costs in decades, easily, maybe even a century.”

“Wait, really?”

“Well, part of that is probably the old tendency to have cohorts of students,” Laskaris shrugged, grimacing, “Clustered damages together and divided by the number of students in a cohort, rather than each student having their own tally. I rather doubt Bron would have had any damages associated to his name, but he was in the Eldest and Jaina’s cohort.”

“She really needs her own title,” Fabron said, frowning, “Now that she’s not Incendiary.”

“Seras was hunting for one, it doesn’t seem like there’s ever been a retired Incendiary before,” Laskaris smirked, “Which means we get to _make_ one. Lumira said she had some ideas.”

“She never mentioned that!” Fabron protested, scowling, “I would be _excellent_ at coming up with titles!”

“Yours would actually sound legitimate, that’s not what we’re looking for.”

“That’s what _I’m _looking for!”

_:Firestarters, we have a situation,: _Kari’s broadcast cut straight across Laskaris’ attempt to retort, Fabron wincing at the sudden voice but managing a better reaction that Laskaris’ full-body shudder. At least neither of them stopped in their tracks anymore. When they could see Kari it wasn’t so bad, the Cat usually looked their way or gave some visible indication he was about to speak to them, but when it was a call like this –

Well. They still weren’t used to it.

_:The Outer Eighth charity temple complex’s storerooms are packed with volatiles. The Eldest recognizes flour, pistachios and finely milled sawdust, packed in barrels surrounding support pillars. He estimates that a spark in here would seriously damage the complex and destroy at least a few buildings outright. Etrius and Rodri are working with staffers to get the children out using a holiday market outing as an excuse in the hopes we don’t alert anyone involved in this plot that they’ve been uncovered.:_

Fabron exchanged a glance with Laskaris, and they both hit the Hall doors running.

=pagebreak=

Anur barely noticed the group they appeared in front of, he had to catch Kir when his brother’s knees gave out, a horrified, “Oh God,” not reassuring _at all._

“It is that bad,” Etrius said flatly, an unfamiliarly desperate expression on his face that was only underscored by his spat, “_Fuck_.”

“It’s – it’s a lot,” Rodri agreed, pale faced and clearly frightened, looking between the two of them as Kir steadied himself and took more of his own weight, a hand pressed to his temple. “Father Kir it’s – it’s pistachios, for sure. And other things _like_ them but not the same.”

“Flour,” Kir said flatly, eyes closed, “Flour, and sawdust, if I’m not mistaken. Directly under our feet. This charity temple is one of the orphanages, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Etrius confirmed, Rodri mumbling prayers under his breath and the unfamiliar young woman standing with them staring at the floor with abject betrayal written on her features.

“You three need to get them out,” Kir said immediately, finally looking at him and explaining properly, “Anur, there are enough volatiles stored under us that this entire building will be obliterated at the very least, the whole complex sorely damaged and there are _children_ here – “

“No, I agree,” Anur assured him, looking at the small group, “Rodri, you detected something odd, then?”

“I did,” Rodri reported, swallowing nervously, “I told Etrius I heard something strange, something maybe dangerous, and he took us to Sable, and she got us into the storerooms to try and figure out what was going on. I – got close, and recognized pistachios and with how many there were it was – I knew it was bad. I didn’t know it would be that bad.”

“You’ve done well,” Kir said, focusing on the young woman and saying, “You are employed here?”

“Yes, Your Holiness. Raised here too,” the dark-haired woman said, offering a brisk bow and holding out the heavy key she pulled from her belt, “And a keyholder. I can let you into those storerooms as well as anywhere else you need to go aside from the priestly quarters.”

“I would rather you go with these two to get the children out of here, as they know you,” Kir replied, Anur nodding agreement and catching the relief on Etrius’ face – she was a friend of his then, they looked of an age and had evidently both been raised here.

“And how are we going to do that without alerting anyone we found out?” Rodri asked, sounding worried, “Sparks are _easy_, and it only takes one to destroy _everything_.”

“I can suppress flames – not as well as I can start them, but I can do it. So long as only one or two spark clusters are used to set it off, I should be able to stop it in its tracks, or at the very least only lose one or two barrel clusters. If it is more – I can’t be certain. At the very least I can buy us time to evacuate,” Kir said firmly, that surety fading as he admitted, “I don’t know how we can manage that evacuation without being blatant, though.”

It was a trick, to be sure, but Anur had been raised on stories of such tricks, though those were usually filled with a lot more rampant violence and horrifying collateral damage than he would allow. This one though, he knew exactly how to manage.

“Announce that you’re taking all the children to the holiday market and buy them all candy or something,” Anur said, pulling his coin-purse out of his inner coat pocket and the narrow one folded under his belt and tearing out the fool-seams of his coat sleeves to drop coins into his hand, most of his audience watching like he was managing an insanely clever bit of sleight of hand.

The only one who wasn’t was doing exactly the same thing, saying, “Good plan. Call it a donation from your sponsors. We can set someone else on the problem of finding them a new place to stay while you’re out,” Kir said, Anur holding his pouch out for Kir to pour his coins into and then thrusting the whole thing at Etrius.

Etrius was staring at the bag in his hands with an utterly poleaxed expression, Anur abruptly worried because Sunhame was more expensive, and the only sweet he regularly bought was spice-cake, asking, “Will that be enough for all of them?”

“There’s only forty-seven,” Sable said faintly, staring at the coin-purse in Etrius’ hands and the other two looking equally stunned.

“I need you two to teach me how to budget,” Rodri said, sounding impressed.

“Rodri, it’s easy,” Anur scoffed, “We’re housed, clothed and fed as part of the Sunsguard or priesthood, our horses are likewise tended to, our medical expenses are also covered and when we travel we mostly eat travel rations or forage, and stay in traveler’s chapels. I buy spice-cake and Kir buys string, that’s literally it.”

“Sometimes we buy tea and _prodka_,” Kir corrected, sounding amused in spite of himself, so Anur would take it.

“Okay, sometimes we buy tea and _prodka_,” Anur allowed, shaking his head, “But sure, we’ll teach you how to budget. That will be enough for all of the children?”

“_Yes_,” all three chorused, Sable eyeing Etrius and saying, “If you don’t return at least half of that, all your barter skills have degraded to unforgivable levels.”

“Agreed,” Etrius said, purse vanishing into his own inner coat pocket. “Right then – we’ll get the children out.”

“Once you’re at least three buildings away, tell Kari – we’ll move on the priests in the complex then, as at least one of them has to be complicit in this, sawdust and pistachios and this volume of flour are useless for a charity temple,” Kir ordered, returning Rodri’s fierce hug while he spoke.

Anur took the key Sable offered him, promising, “I’ll return this to you as soon as I can.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, voice shaking only a bit. Breathing deeply, she continued steadily, “The storeroom entrance is just down the hall to the left, the door is open. Vkandis protect and guide, Holiness, Enforcer.”

“Vkandis protect and guide,” they both echoed, following them into the corridor and turning the other direction, Kari staying tight to their sides. Hopefully Valerik could wait for them to run triage on this, wherever he was.

Kir had evidently been having some of the same thoughts, asking aloud as they headed down the stairs, mage-light preceding them, “You said you _couldn’t_ find Valerik, Kari?”

_:Wherever he is, he’s obscured to my senses. That likely means powerful magecraft with some focus to obscuration. It is not – if he were conscious, if he were aware, I would be able to reach his mind and receive an acknowledgement, and use that to get to him regardless. But he is unconscious right now, is not rousing at the calls I can make, and a detailed effort to break through and find him in spite of this blurring would take time we can ill afford at the moment. I truly hate to say it, but he’s on his own right now.:_

“Hells,” Kir breathed, burying his face in his hands, Anur settling a hand between his shoulder blades, feeling the same self-recrimination and bitterness Kir was. “I cannot disagree, Kari, but how I _want _to.”

_:I know,: _Kari yowled mournfully, huddling against Kir’s side, _:I _know_.:_

Anur let the moment hold, offering a quick but no less sincere prayer that Valerik was all right, that Valerik would manage to get himself out of whatever mess he’d landed in, and while he was at it some help with this mess would be nice too, thank you Sunlord. By the faint murmurs from Kir, he was doing much the same.

“Kari, we need help, and the Firestarters will be the easiest to manage,” Anur said aloud, looking around the storeroom and wincing. There were crates and barrels stacked around support columns, which were probably the volatiles. If you were going to try and destroy as much of this complex as possible, might as well stack the odds in your favor. “And with Kir the only safeguard we have at the moment – you need to stay with him. Perhaps Hansa could come along? Both as an additional evacuation route and as someone to point to if we need a truth compulsion.”

“Kavrick works with volatiles,” Kir said abruptly, looking around with a far more critical gaze, “His expertise could be valuable, but I would prefer he offer it verbally or through someone else, rather than in person. See if he has any advice for mitigation, besides my own flame suppression, but request he stay away. For the others – Colbern, and – damn it, Valerik is missing. Right. Is Laskaris back in Sunhame?”

_:He’s in the District,: _Kari reported.

“Please don’t be a disaster we have to deal with,” Anur muttered, Kir humming agreement before continuing his orders.

“Him then. Henrik was Valerik’s student, does he have any experience with judicial?”

_:Yes, I believe so. He also trained with Jaina on wards,: _Kari supplied.

“Him too. That gives us three, four counting you, Anur, and Hansa. If Hansa could bring some other authorities – investigative experience would be helpful but quick reactions and the ability to make solid-shield would also be useful, I think? His discretion, but _not Solaris_,” Kir finished, shaking his head, “The other Firestarters are to _stay clear_.”

_:Understood, Eldest,: _Kari said firmly, looking aside and starting his message relay.

“What can we do right now to mitigate risk?” Anur asked, brow furrowing as he looked around, “The danger is pressure, right? Would opening every door in this place help?”

“One moment, Anur,” Kir said, voice tight and Anur settled a hand on his shoulder, frowning as the usual crackles and flares of Kir’s mind against his own became very – still. Very quiet, and not peacefully so.

“What are you doing, exactly?” he murmured, “This – it doesn’t feel sustainable.”

“Total suppression of flames and forced reduction of flammability,” Kir explained, glancing his way and grimacing, “It’s very counterintuitive, Anur. It feels like – like straining to reach further than you actually can, but without any ceasing or readjusting.”

_:That sounds terrible,: _Aelius said, _:And I agree with Anur, not sustainable. How long can you keep this up?:_

“Not too long,” Kir admitted, wincing, “Perhaps a mark? Even then, if multiple sparks go off at once – I don’t think I’d be able to respond quickly enough to all of them.”

“Then we’ll move fast,” Anur said firmly, because that was all they really _could_ do, “And you’ll keep Kari with you. Hansa can stay with the rest of us. Actually – Kari, if any of the Firestarters have flame suppression techniques that could be layered on top of Kir’s, that’d be helpful or at least not harmful.”

_:Henrik says he has some wards that might help, he’s grabbing the relevant ward anchors. Also, Kavrick says aside from suppression, ventilation and dispersal would be the most effective, allow you a chance to turn it to flash-fire. However, with this concentration he recommends focusing on evacuation first, as the shockwave will likely demolish everything. He works with volatiles very carefully, and has little experience in what to do when things go catastrophically wrong. He also says he’s more than happy to come and offer his own warding experience,: _Kari reported.

“He has a student who has just undergone a traumatic experience and we’re looking to traumatize him further with the knowledge he has a witch-power that influences minds,” Kir retorted, glaring at Kari, “Kavrick. Stays. Away. The others?”

_:Henrik is about done gathering supplies and has asked Lumira to alert an actual Justicar of the problem, Colbern is suggesting using animated corpses to transport the volatiles out of here once evacuation is complete, Seras is heading to the other orphanage temple to coordinate a new place for the children to stay after ensuring no volatiles are being stashed there, Jaina is staying in the holiday market to meet Etrius and the others and says if you die she reserves the right to pray for your resurrection and then murder you again if it works, Laskaris is dropping his bags off and otherwise ready to go and Tristan plans to attempt scrying for Valerik, though he has his doubts it will work and will follow Fabron to the western charity temple to help him check it for volatiles after a few attempts,: _Kari continued, inclining his head at Kir’s order and not objecting at all.

“The animated corpses idea isn’t terrible,” Anur muttered, shuddering at the idea nonetheless, “Good division of labor, otherwise.”

“It depends on how clumsy they are,” Kir replied, “But it could work. And agreed, pass on thanks for divvying that labor up, Kari. On the corpses – it’s certainly risking fewer people than any of my other ideas, though surrounding buildings would need to be evacuated too, in case the walls come down.”

_:We will put a pin in that idea then,: _Kari said diplomatically, _:Hansa says he will be bringing Grevenor and Karchanek, as the former is skilled at detecting and dismantling trap spells and Karchanek is a respected authority outside the Firestarting Order. He also volunteered.:_

“Karchanek is _not_ coming,” Kir said sternly, “Grevenor, fine, he has useful skills for this situation, but we are _not_ going to lose _three out of five _of Solaris’ Council to this if it goes wrong. Karchanek stays away until this is dismantled, he can help the investigation from a safe distance if he likes.”

_:I will pass that on to Hansa. I doubt he will object,: _Kari agreed, _:Our Firestarters are all assembled, we’re just waiting on – ah. Nothing at all. Etrius just got the group three buildings out. Let’s go open all the other doors and I’ll have Hansa bring the others outside of the last one, he needs to use my location as an anchor.:_

“A very good point,” Kir murmured, looking around them and shuddering.

“Are you going to be able to walk and maintain the focus you need?” Anur asked, and took no little comfort in the fact Kir’s response was a mute roll of his eyes as he set off.

They started walking through the storeroom, picking their way through the aisles with possibly exaggerated care but tripping and causing the whole disaster they were trying to avert would be a damn stupid way to die. Kari was following behind them, so they might escape regardless, but that, if anything, would be even worse.

There were only four doors leading up into the complex, though. Nowhere near enough to be helpful. Anur examined the bricked over archway as they headed up the last set of stairs – one of many such archways he’d seen in their circuit of the storeroom.

“Odds there are secret passageways and the like that have been bricked up?” Anur asked, Kir huffing a laugh.

“Anur, Sunhame, as a settlement, is over _two thousand_ years old, and the southern Outer sectors are the oldest of all. There are _extensive_ underlevels in the city, and it’s considered the responsibility of the property owner to maintain their lower level to keep people out as they desire. The Sunsguard has passages they maintain here, but for the most part they’re left to rot. I would be more surprised if there _weren’t_. I don’t know that breaking down walls will be safe in this sort of environment, though.”

“I was more thinking opening holes in walls,” Anur offered, grimacing as he thought about the ways even that smaller scale operation could go wrong and opening the last door to the storeroom, “But fair enough. All right. What are the ways sparks could happen? Rodri said sparks were easy, was he speaking magically or just for the two of you?”

“Both,” Kir replied, looking thoughtful and wincing when Hansa’s flames appeared in the hallway in front of them, continuing as the new arrivals appeared, “Though for magic there usually needs to be something to focus on, particularly if the spell is done at a distance.”

“Or if it is set off by some outside circumstance or timed,” Grevenor inserted, no one commenting on Hansa’s pinned back ears or Colbern and Laskaris’ low voiced cursing, but Henrik had definitely noticed and was staring at the more senior Firestarters with no little trepidation. “The children are out?”

“Safely away, yes,” Anur confirmed, holding up the key Sable had lended him, “And we have a keyholder’s key, in case we need it. But first thing’s first – Laskaris, why are you a day late?”

“I’m – not late?” Laskaris said, looking bewildered, “The Conclave starts tonight?”

“Yes, yes but you were planning on arriving yesterday, you’re here today. What happened? Please no exorcists, please, please,” Anur was unashamed to admit that he was definitely whispering heartfelt prayers at the end of that.

The priests stared at him before Colbern shrugged and looked to Laskaris, “He has a point, actually. Is it anything urgent?”

“A bridge washed out,” Laskaris said dryly, raising an eyebrow at them, “I had to take a detour.”

“Oh,” Anur said, feeling abruptly ridiculous and sharing a relieved look with Kir, “That’s – so normal!”

“_Anur stop talking!”_ Kir hissed, grabbing his collar and shaking him, “You just cursed us _again_!”

“I did _not_ curse us to _begin _with this has _definitely_ been in the works for longer than the past three days and _not_ finding out about this before it happened would have definitely been worse, there is _no curse_!” Anur hissed back, and no one would ever know he was starting to have trouble convincing himself, “Henrik, you can set up flame suppression wards?”

Anur carefully ignored Aelius’ mental coughing and Kir’s abruptly smug mental presence, the gossipy traitors.

“Yes,” Henrik agreed, amused expression vanishing as he spoke, admitting, “I haven’t held them over a very large area before though.”

“Then let’s show you what we have to work with,” Kir said, nodding towards the stairs and letting go of Anur’s collar with an apologetic pat on his shoulder, “Grevenor, you are a trap spell expert?”

“Of sorts,” the other member of Solaris’ Council agreed, heading down the stairs and visibly wincing, “Hells, _all_ of these are flour and such?”

“All the ones around support pillars, certainly,” Kir replied, moving to follow him but Anur grabbed his arm before he could go.

“You be careful, and stay near Kari,” Anur said sternly, calling after Grevenor, “If you find and remove a spell anchor, let us know right away! We three will deal with gathering the adults here, and coordinating with the Justicar if Lumira sends one here soon enough.”

“Shouldn’t take long, Fourth Court doesn’t waste time, as a rule,” Laskaris supplied, giving the stairwell a wary look, “I had best steer clear of that, if it’s as concentrated as you say – I nearly failed my Trial’s collateral damage requirement, and I can’t say I’ve worked on it very much since.”

“I sent a runner to Liljan saying we might have a hazardous removal job to conduct,” Colbern added, shrugging at their startled looks, “She’d never be a part of something like this, and obtaining corpses with enough structure to actually carry things and no one to raise a huge fuss over using them in such a way is very time consuming. As soon as you start raising human corpses, people start complaining.”

“That – makes sense,” Anur said hesitantly, Kir chuckling and patting his shoulder again before heading down the stairs after Grevenor and Henrik, Kari on his heels.

“No it doesn’t, they’re _dead_, it’s literally just _rotting meat_,” Colbern retorted, glowering at him and clearly gearing up for a rant when Laskaris cut him off.

“Let’s focus on finding the adults in this complex! Mages first, Colbern, any mages in the area?”

Colbern’s glower only darkened, but he obligingly looked around and said shortly, “One. This way.”

Laskaris fell into step beside Anur while they followed Hansa and Colbern, the priest lowering his voice and saying, “He can rant on that topic for _marks_. It gets very disturbing, especially because logically speaking, he’s completely right.”

“No, he definitely is,” Anur conceded, wincing, “My uncle told some really nightmare inducing stories about walkers though. It’s a kneejerk response at this point.”

_:Kir you jerk you should have warned me about Colbern!:_

_:Enduring Colbern’s ‘it’s literally meat which is why we don’t burn people while hungry’ lecture is a rite of passage, Anur, sorry.:_

_:…You just made this so much worse,: _Anur whined, not helped at all by Aelius cackling at them both.

“The Eldest told you Colbern’s version of a moral to the story?” Laskaris said, voice still tight with discomfort but he was at least acknowledging the existence of mindspeech, and didn’t sound _disgusted_. Definite progress. But also.

“That is _not_ a moral,” Anur hissed.

“The lesson, then.”

=pagebreak=

“You really should have warned him about Colbern’s lecture,” Henrik said, shuddering.

_:I don’t think I’ve heard this lecture, actually,: _Kari commented, tilting his head curiously, _:What did you summarize it as, Eldest?:_

“You didn’t hear me?” Kir asked, raising an eyebrow at the Cat practically glued to his side. They were following Grevenor, Henrik walking next to them and placing his ward anchors – engraved disks of bronze, if he wasn’t mistaken – around the edge of the room. There was apparently a set distance between each of them, and Henrik figured if he was able to surround the room with the maximum distance between each disk, he would be able to manage the warding successfully. If not, it was better not to risk it. Magic was something of a natural volatile in itself, after all.

_:Mindspeech conversations can be directed at one specific recipient. Unless you’re consciously broadcasting to include me, I can’t hear it,: _Kari replied, shaking his head, _:Well. Unless I wanted to be rude and eavesdrop, but I refuse to do that unless the situation calls for it.:_

“Ah,” Kir said, wanting to ask more because it was curious that Kari had that limitation while Aelius didn’t seem to, though that probably had something to do with Anur’s bond to Aelius, but that sort of discussion was best left for later.

“Well, it’s usually summarized as Colbern’s ‘it’s literally meat which is why we don’t burn people while hungry’ lecture,” Kir explained, Kari giving his chuffing laugh while Grevenor made a horrified noise, rounding on them.

“That’s _disgusting_,” the man hissed.

“There’s a reason I said the Eldest should have _warned_ his Enforcer,” Henrik replied sharply, eyes narrowing and Kir felt an eyebrow creep up his face. He didn’t know Henrik well at all, but this definitely read as targeted hostility specific to Grevenor, which was… rather surprising. He wouldn’t have thought they would have had any chance to interact before this.

“I had to sit through the entire rant and take detailed notes, he can suffer through a brief summary,” Kir scoffed, wincing as he thought that through and asked, “Have the current students gotten that lecture yet?”

“Etrius has,” Henrik replied, placing his next anchor while Grevenor shuddered and continued on their circuit of the room, adding, “Not sure about Maltin and Rodri but probably not.”

“Probably not,” Kir agreed, remembering Rodri’s reactions yesterday. He probably wouldn’t have been so surprised by Maltin’s terror of fire if Colbern had given them that lecture. It was very detailed. “I’ll – have to talk to Colbern about that.”

“It can be skipped,” Henrik promised him, Kir noting but not commenting on the glare he was still sending Grevenor’s back, “It can definitely be skipped.”

He was going to have to follow up with Henrik on this apparent issue with Grevenor, wasn’t he?

_:Anur, add talking to Henrik about Grevenor to the list of tasks.:_

_:…Aelius?:_

_:Consider it added, focus on your current dangers please.:_

Kir had just opened his mouth to ask Grevenor what he was looking for and if there was any way he could help beyond his flammability reduction and fire suppression when Kari’s fur practically stood on end, the Cat whirling on them with a panicked mental cry, _:Valerik!:_

“Get Anur and _go_,” Kir barked, gritting his teeth as he bore down on the traces of fire and warmth that even Kari’s most subtle of jumps left behind.

“Was that truly necessary?” Grevenor asked, voice painfully dubious.

Kir did not like that tone. Nor did he like Henrik’s wordless snarl in response.

_“…I can’t read this scribbled out bit. Something about a lecture that’s a rite of passage for Firestarters to listen to?”_

_“Well that’s… ominous.”_

_“New series of bets?”_

_“After we know what happened! Come on, Auntie Ki, keep reading!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting these pieces stitched together - and not having everything fall apart three more chapters in - has been SO HARD. I'm finally content with both this chapter and the next three-ish, but I also have over 200 pages of alternative versions/attempts/bewailing the curse that does totally exist so...
> 
> Look. I'm pretty happy with this chapter. I may end up happy with the whole story and leave polishing for post-saga-edit-spree (a decade from now at the rate we're going). I may end up carpet-bombing everything in despair.
> 
> On that note - hope you enjoy!


	6. Flashfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I've been saying monthly updates for this fic - but for one, I missed February, and for another... look, the world is a little nuts right now, so have a bonus chapter!
> 
> But I have to warn you... if you thought LAST chapter was a cliffhanger, this one is definitely just as bad, if not worse.

Valerik would swear to the Sunlord and Ari and all the Blessed Souls that he hadn’t drunk that much last night, he hadn’t even gotten past _buzzed_ last night, there was _no reason_ for his head to hurt this badly, damn everything to the coldest of hells. He had played it so safe! He had gone to Alberich’s bar and sat where he could watch the man pour, snickered with the rest of the regulars over the idiots who thought they were clever when they commented on Alberich’s name and suffered mis-made and watered down drinks that everyone else in the bar would swear were properly made and delicious because you couldn’t _pay _for this sort of entertainment, and headed back towards the District only a mark or so after midnight! He had played it _safe_!

Groaning, he gagged on air and squawked when he suddenly moved and his head _throbbed_ with it – it took until his feet hit the floor and he was lowered to a seat for him to realized he’d been slung over someone’s shoulder, said someone holding a city-Guard issue oil-wick lantern and definitely not in the uniform to justify owning such a thing.

“You aware, Val?” the stranger asked, Valerik squinting at him and not recognizing the man at all even with a few moments of thought, but that wasn’t too surprising. He wasn’t exactly the most subtle of men, there were likely a lot of people that recognized him who he couldn’t pick out of a line up.

“Aware,” he managed around the hopefully metaphorical dead rat in his mouth, spitting to one side and grimacing because that didn’t help at all, so it really was a metaphorical rat, “Why the hell are we underground?”

He did not like the pause that followed that question, and he could barely think past the pounding in his head.

“We’re underground because that’s where you were put,” the man finally said, “It’s part of a plot to frame you, though I’ll be honest I have no idea what for or why you. No one will listen to me, so I’m hoping to use the fact I found you to get a door opened instead of slammed in my face.”

Valerik could _feel_ all the questions that he couldn’t actually think of on the tip of his tongue. This was terrible, he _couldn’t think_. He _hated_ concussions.

“Do I have a head wound?” he asked, because at least that one he could figure out the words for.

“Checked for basics, didn’t seem injured, just unconscious and severely chilled. Didn’t wake up to basic taps and what-not, or when I retied you so you wouldn’t loose circulation too badly,” the man said, pulling out a small knife and waving at Valerik’s bound wrists and ankles, “May I?”

“Thanks,” Valerik managed, wincing at a particularly sharp throb and trying not to think too hard about he fact he hadn’t even noticed he was tied up. The hobbles were cut and pocketed, and Valerik waited for the man to put his knife away before holding out an arm and saying, “This headache is terrible. All right, help me up, I can walk.”

The dubious look he received at that declaration was probably deserved, standing up was _hard_.

“Your definition of walk could use some work,” the man said three steps later, having caught Valerik when he nearly swerved into a wall. Huffing a laugh, Valerik hooked his arm around the stranger’s shoulders, and was pretty sure that between that and the arm wrapping around his waist, this man was taking most of his weight. Probably would have moved faster if he’d stayed unconscious, to be honest.

“If there’s a plot to frame me and you don’t know what for or why, what aren’t people listening about?” Valerik asked, feeling a sharp spike of triumph because he’d managed to find words for the right question! Or at least find words for _a _question. Almost as good.

“So very much,” the man said, voice sour, but he shook it off and continued, “Right. You were grabbed last night, it’s well after dawn services and the like let out. What are the odds your family has already raised an alert that you’re missing?”

Valerik only caught half of that, hearing muffled and he felt himself droop, jolting upright when the man swore, and he shook his head before regretting that choice intensely and gasping, “Sorry. Sorry. Question again?”

“Your family,” the man repeated slowly – he really needed to ask about his name, if he remembered that long enough he’d make it his next question, “Odds they’ve raised an alert you’re missing?”

“No family,” he replied, feeling a little saddened by it because one of his drinks the night before had been a silent toast to the birth family he’d never really given a second thought to after his teen years. With the Eldest’s reunion fresh in his mind, he had finally worked up the nerve to look into it this winter. They had died in the Tedrel Wars fiasco.

Mourning for later or never, questions for now, “What’s your name?”

“Garth Nolans – and what do you mean no family, I thought you had a sister, Jana?”

“…Right. Right my sister Jana. Younger and more sensible,” Valerik winced, he was definitely off his game if he didn’t realize that question had been targeted at _Val_, not Valerik. Val had a family. Val had a _sister_. “Yes. I have a sister. Time is it?”

“Midmorning.”

“Oh no,” Val whispered, finally realizing one of the dangers his mind was struggling to scream at him about, “Oh no she’s going to _kill _me.”

“I think she’ll cut you some slack,” Garth said, sounding amused despite himself, “Come on, Val, we need to keep moving.”

“Is someone chasing us?”

“Hopefully not yet, I’d like to get further out before pursuit starts.”

“Where are we going?” Valerik asked, squinting as if that would help him see further in the light of one tiny oil lamp, which it definitely did not. At least there wasn’t too much rubble in this passage, even if it didn’t have any of the markings of an officially maintained one.

“Guard station, hopefully. We’ll see if they let me in,” Garth said, huffing tiredly, “We’ll see if anyone useful is guarding the underlevels. Here, lean against this wall.”

“Right, right,” Val said, leaning against the wall heavily while the man slipped through a gap in the stonework and shivering. The whole wall wasn’t stone, but a lot of it was and that stone was _cold_. The impatient wave of a hand got him moving again, carefully following through the gap – and barely managing not to bowl them both over when his knee gave out on the other side.

“Gah. Sorry,” he mumbled, straightening slowly.

“That gets us halfway there,” Garth promised, resuming their shuffling walk down yet another unmarked underground passage.

Huh. Unmarked, by the official markings for the underlevels. Not surprising, not very many underlevel passages and the like were properly marked and mapped, it was a bit of a warren aside from the few zones maintained by the Sunsguard. But these paths seemed familiar to him, and if he wasn’t just seeing things, that narrowed it down quite a bit. He didn’t have cause to properly wander around – or under – Sunhame very much. Even with the reforms he couldn’t get away too often, and why waste time exploring when he could be drinking or brawling?

His headache _throbbed _and Valerik felt his knees give out, grunting when Garth practically toppled over on top of him and gagging on air again, hearing Garth saying something but he couldn’t hear him, he couldn’t hear _anything_ Ari bless this was miserable.

“Something’s not right,” he insisted, “Not _right _I didn’t drink a lot no head wound but I can’t _think_ what did they _do _to me?”

“Val, I – I don’t know for certain, but I have ideas. We need to keep moving, though, Val, _please_.”

“Okay, okay,” Valerik managed, trying to stand and ending up relying almost entirely on Garth again. He should have just asked the man to carry him again, but then he’d pass out, he could already tell that much, and he couldn’t afford to lose consciousness again. As it was, he could feel some thought that tasted important, that felt significant, slip through his fingers. This wasn't just a concussion, this wasn’t just cold stealing away his ability to think. He had to focus. He had to _think_, and he knew it was a bad idea, he remembered all the warnings he’d ever gotten with concussions and head wounds in general but he had to figure this out, something was _wrong_ and he couldn’t even remember _what_.

It took a glimpse of the beaded spell-key bracelet on Garth’s wrist for him to realize what his mind had been trying to tell him.

“Bracelet,” he said suddenly, Garth swearing when Valerik collapsed entirely this time, the other man barely managing to catch his shoulders so he didn’t end up giving _himself_ a head wound but Valerik ignored him, trying to grab the bracelet on his own wrist and finally giving up on elegance and slamming the offending limb against Garth’s chest, “This isn’t mine. Get it off.”

“Val – Val they put it on you,” Garth said, sounding grief-stricken and furious and not making any move to take the bracelet off, “It’s a favorite of his. To put cursed bracelets on and only take them off if you comply. I can’t, Val. It’d kill you.”

Val stared at him, because that wasn’t quite what he meant. He had meant it wasn’t his, so someone had taken his and switched it out, his was _missing _but this was – this was –

He started laughing, knowing it was a bitter thing, but he couldn’t help it. He’d removed the traps on his wear-always bracelet because someone had tried to steal it off him in his first years making these excursions and his traps had nearly killed the stupid kid. He hadn’t wanted someone to _die_ because they thought his cheap-looking stone bracelet was nice, so he’d gotten rid of those traps.

And here he was, with his own spellworked bracelet gone and a fake one left behind – a fake one with some strong spellwork on it in its own right, that a man desperate to have people listen to his testimony and being consistently ignored recognized immediately as cursed, as placed there by a specific person.

Some Oathbreaking _fucker _was going to _burn_ for this.

His laughter grew ragged, stopped entirely, and his breathing sounded far too loud in his ears. Garth was watching him worriedly, was opening his mouth to say something – undoubtedly an insistence they keep moving, they try and get going again, because this man clearly had a goal and a plan and Val was getting dragged along for the ride – but Valerik couldn’t hear the words he was saying, couldn’t hear _anything_ over his own heartbeat for a few terrible moments, before the world suddely _roared_ and his vision went white and it hurt so_ badly _Sunlord_ please _–

He must have passed out. There was a gap, somewhere. There had been nothing but pain, and then he was sitting against a wall with Garth sitting beside him, slumped against the other man’s side.

“You back with me, Val?”

“Back,” he groaned, dry-heaving again, “Garth, this isn’t after effects, something’s still happening, something’s _wrong_.”

“I know,” the man said grimly, “Val. I – I don’t know what this bracelet is doing to you. What it will do to you, if I take it off. I can take it off and throw it down the corridor and if there’s any sort of dramatic burning death curse we might dodge that, but anything else – you could die, Val.”

“I think it’s killing me anyway,” Valerik gasped, shivering and not able to tell if it was chills or something else or even just in his imagination and there was something he could do, there was someone he should be trying to reach but he _couldn’t think_ –

“Get it off,” he wheezed, shoving the limb into Garth’s chest again, “Get it off. Please.”

“All right, all right,” Garth said, inhale sounding shaky and hand definitely shaking a bit, but he hooked his fingers under the bracelet on Val’s wrist and said again, “I’m going to pull the bracelet off and throw it back down the way we came, all right?”

“Fine,” Valerik managed, feeling a wetness on his face and a familiar salty-copper on his lips – fantastic. His nose was bleeding. He was definitely fighting whatever enchantment was on the bracelet then, and probably half-killing himself doing it, as he’d feared. Hopefully with it gone the backlash from the effort didn’t destroy his brain.

He was still forgetting something, he still couldn’t quite manage to _think_ –

The bracelet got flung down the passage, and for one gloriously pain-free moment he remembered.

“Kari!”

=pagebreak=

Garth didn’t even have a chance to ask about the name Val shouted, the man immediately started seizing and slammed his head into Garth’s jaw before Garth could get him away from the wall.

“One, two, three,” Garth counted, grunting when Val’s next spasm drove his shoulder into Garth’s stomach before carrying on, “Five, six, sev – _what the - !”_

Flames appeared nearly on top of them and it was all Garth could do to not scramble away but Val was seizing he couldn’t just leave him –

The flames vanished and left a legend in their place.

“Kari!” the man the legend had brought along actually _snarled_ that legend’s name, but whatever he was going to add on was silenced when he caught sight of the pair of them and his focus switched entirely to Val.

“Oh hells, _Valerik_,” the man breathed, dropping to his knees at Val’s side before looking at Garth in the light – better than his lamp alone had managed, the Firecat was… was glowing? They could _do_ that?

They actually _existed_?

“How long?” the demand brought Garth back to himself, shaking his head he focused on the stranger, cursing himself when he realized the man was taking his coat off because he should have thought of that, moving his hand from under Val’s head so the coat could go there instead while he replied.

“I was at seven count when you showed up – probably fifteen, now,” Garth said, restarting his count from there.

“Kari will keep count, tell me what happened,” the man said, indicating the Firecat as Garth had guessed.

“There was a spelled bracelet – he was unconscious, I carried him out and he woke up after a bit of that. Seemed to have a bad headache that changed pain levels every so often, couldn’t walk right, thought he had a head-wound but he didn’t. Slurred speech, couldn’t think clearly, managed to figure out what he was trying to get to though, he realized the bracelet was probably responsible for the headache. I took it off him and threw it away from us in case it had some other spellwork, it’s down that way, and Val shouted for Kari before seizing,” Garth reported, knowing that when this was over he was going to have a quiet panic because _what was happening_ but he needed to get through this.

Val – _Val _– knew a _Firecat_.

“Replaced his bracelet. Oh I don’t like where that might be leading,” the man muttered, glancing up from Val and saying, “Name’s Anur Bellamy, by the way.”

“Garth Nolans,” he replied, filing that name away to hopefully follow up on later. If he survived.

If he wasn’t executed.

“We’re halfway to the Outer Eighth Sector Station – I was planning on bringing him there, there’s an underlevel entrance and hopefully having found Val would get me in the doors,” Garth said, hesitating before cursing himself because completely justified mistrust of the priesthood was one thing, but this man had been brought by a _Firecat_, this was his _best chance_.

He had promised Maude he would take every chance he could.

“Your Holiness, this is part of something bigger. I don’t quite know all the pieces, but I swear to you the black-robe priest Bertrand at the Outer Eighth charity temple is sponsoring it, I don’t have proof with me I don’t have much solid proof at all beyond the spelled bracelet I pulled off Val but I will tell you everything I know of him and his plots going back _years_ please just _listen to me – ”_

“Nolans – Garth Nolans, _breathe_,” Bellamy said, hands grabbing his shoulders and Garth stopped babbling, inhaling desperately and trying to breathe normally, “Nolans, I am listening. I _will_ listen, I promise you, and your word can be enough. Firecats can cast a working call Tell Me True, it’s a truth compulsion, your word under that will be _more_ than enough to get a proper investigation started, get the man you name detained and also questioned under a truth compulsion. I promise you, I will listen. Are you aware of anyone besides Val who is in immediate danger of their life due to Bertrand’s plotting?”

“My sister Maude,” Garth blurted, hardly daring to believe that this had actually worked, that Bellamy was actually being honest with him, but if he was – if there was any chance at all –

His sister. Maude might be _saved_.

“He put a cursed bracelet on her. Not like Val’s, she wasn’t suffering while wearing it I don’t think but she – he said that if she took it off, if anyone took it off besides him, she wouldn’t have hands to heal anymore, he burned her hands first and healed them but put the bracelet on while he did – he’s done it before. I’ve seen those bracelets kill people.”

“All right, where would she be right now? We might be able to get a mage to her, someone who can try and dismantle the bracelet or at least weaken it,” Bellamy said, Garth feeling some of his shakiness fade because the questions were so very practical. The options were so very clear.

They might actually make it. This might actually _work!_

“She’s running her holiday market stall right now – ”

_:In the Seventh-Eighth market? We can check that easily, one of ours is in that market right now,: _Garth yelped at the strange voice in his mind, the Firecat twitching and drawing his gaze, blue eyes meeting his and the voice returning, saying, _:I am Kari, as you undoubtedly guessed. We’re at seventy-six.:_

When the count hit eighty-four, Val went limp, breathing harshly and not responding otherwise, though Bellamy started talking to him in a low tone about some mutual acquaintance of theirs they were apparently teasing via mysterious pistachio deliveries. Garth knew he should speak up, should let Val know he was present too while he regained awareness, but he was finding it hard to breathe through his anxiety because this was the closest he had gotten to actually having help in years, to actually having a chance of Maude surviving this, and it was so very different. So very _much._

“I thought _Etrius_ was the other one hiding pistachio packets,” Val rasped, Bellamy giving a relieved sigh but responding to the statement regardless.

“Well, he might be hiding some too, but Kir and I have definitely planted our own share,” he said, resting a hand on Val’s shoulder and saying, “You feeling all right? You just had a seizing fit, lasted longer than a minute.”

“My head still hurts,” Val grumbled, “Not as badly, but not great. And I think my nose is still bleeding. Hells, that was some serious spellwork that I was throwing off, actually _seizing _for a whole _minute_?”

“Minute and a half, more like,” Garth corrected, Val’s head carefully shifting so he could see him and Garth did him the courtesy of not looking away. He was definitely aware again – and more aware than he had _been_, that gaze was far more intent than Val had managed before this.

Which meant the lack of title for Bellamy was intentional – or rather, was not unusual. Bellamy had called Val by the name _Valerik_, which was a normal enough name but he’d never heard any whispers of Val not being the man’s full name. A Firecat was evidently familiar enough with him for Val to be able to call on him for help.

Damn it. His ‘frontman-slash-enforcer for the family smuggling business’ bet was definitely wrong.

“I’m lucky that backlash didn’t kill me,” Val said, Bellamy inhaling sharply and going pale, Val apparently understanding the response and grimacing, muttering, “Backlash is bad, Bellamy. Don’t let anyone try and convince you otherwise, that ward _has_ to come down.”

“Right, right,” Bellamy said, voice shaky for some reason, Val trying to sit up and Garth quickly joined Bellamy in helping him with the effort. Val grumbled under his breathe but didn’t actually object, which was not a good sign. Not after all his insistences that he could walk, that he could manage.

Val swayed a bit, grimacing before apparently resigning himself to needing help and sagging against Bellamy’s shoulder, mumbling apologies.

The man just rolled his eyes and wrapped his arm more firmly around Val’s shoulders, saying, “Valerik, it’s _fine_. Have you got any idea how worried we were when Kari said he couldn’t find you?”

“Couldn’t find me?” Val repeated, huffing a laugh when the Firecat coiled around his other side and rubbed his head against Val’s chest, saying, “Damn strong spellwork then, to hide me from you.”

The Firecat’s ears flattened and his voice echoed in Garth’s mind again, feeling so very strange and more than a little panic-inducing, saying, _:Not particularly strong – not _weak_, mind, but overwhelming power wouldn’t have hid you so well. It was just very specific. As soon as you were able to call for me, I could break through it and find you, but when you weren’t responding… I couldn’t do more than sense a general direction.:_

“Huh,” Bellamy said, sounding thoughtful, “You were calling for Valerik rather consistently, even after the first attempts didn’t work, weren’t you?”

_:Yes,: _Honored Kari said, head tilting to one side, _:The last was only a few moments before Valerik managed to call for me.:_

“I’d be curious to see the results of a scan on that bracelet,” Bellamy said, eyes narrowing, “Because it sounds to me like some spellwork on there blocked mindspeech.”

“Didn’t think magic could do that,” Valerik said, coughing wetly, “Ugh. Am I still bleeding?”

“If it’s a question, the answer is probably yes,” Bellamy said dryly, tone not hiding his worried expression as he carefully tilted Val’s face to get a better look, Garth wincing when that shift revealed that Val was _definitely _still bleeding, and his coat was in really terrible shape now. Garth pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and passed it to Val, the hand that took it shaking more than a little.

“Hells we need to get you out of here,” Bellamy murmured, brow creased with worry and gaze flicking towards the ceiling before focusing on Garth again, “How much further to the sector station?”

“Quarter _mel_ or so,” Garth said, hesitating before admitting, “The only reason I was going there was to get someone to listen to me, and I knew if I showed up with Val they’d be more likely to at least hear why I had him in tow, maybe get an investigation opened up on his abduction alone, if nothing else.”

“It’d be useful to go there, regardless. We were going to need extra manpower for our own disaster,” Bellamy grimaced, “But quarter _mel_ with Val in this condition will take far too long. Kari, is he safe to transport like this? Multiple times?”

“I might throw up on you,” Valerik said wearily.

Garth couldn’t help but scoff, saying, “As many times as you dry-heaved? You don’t have anything to throw up.”

“Regardless, I’d take the risk,” Bellamy said, sounding even more concerned, “Kari?”

_:Once, certainly. The second transfer would depend on how much I’ve done in between – my transits get rougher as I grow more tired,: _Kari explained, which was a perfectly reasonable limitation and so very strange to hear an avatar of the Sunlord admit to.

“Right. Valerik, your choice. Outer Eighth, or the Hall?”

“Outer Eighth,” Valerik decided, that far too stubborn for his own good streak that Garth had expected coming out, “They know me there, having me around will help you two get in the door regardless. What’s your disaster?”

“The trap I suspect you’re being framed for,” Bellamy said grimly, “Nolans, my coat sleeve has a silk scarf tucked into it, can you use it to get that bracelet you threw aside? Use the silk to wrap it, don’t touch it with your bare skin, silk is some sort of magical insulator.”

“That one of the _bishra_ treated scarves?” Val asked, watching as Garth messed with the coat in question and wincing when he caught the wet patches on it, “Hells, I bled and drooled all over your coat, I’m sorry.”

“Valerik,” Bellamy said flatly, “You could have _died_. I think I can live with having to clean my _coat_, Ari’s sake! Stop apologizing!”

“Kari,” he continued, gaze turning to the Firecat watching him attentively and Garth could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the unquestioning _authority_ in the man’s voice, authority he was directing at a _Firecat_, “Get ahold of Marghi, tell him we’ve found Val and it’s complicated, give a general summary and ask what information he needs or process we need to follow to get an investigation opened. While you’re at it, mention the need for extra bodies for a dangerous hazards removal at the charity temple, see what sort of paperwork or authorization he needs to make that happen.”

The Cat nodded firmly before gazing off into the middle distance to do Bellamy’s bidding, which was _insane_.

He found the bracelet that was definitely a part of it all and picked it up, careful to follow Bellamy’s instructions on proper handling but still able to take a good long look at the blasted thing. It was typical of Bertrand’s more subtle works, designed to raise no eyebrows when they suddenly appeared on the wrists of people of all sorts, but apparently Val owned a bracelet of his own that was nearly identical and had been replaced with this one.

It could be simply because someone wearing two of the same sort of bracelet on one wrist was a little odd outside of women’s bangles, but Garth suspected it was something more. He suspected he should be adding a plural to his next ‘Holiness’.

“Have the bracelet, Your Holiness,” Garth said, holding the wrapped bracelet up for Bellamy to see and a little surprised when both men winced, though Val spoke first.

“I realize we’ll likely have to tell some people about my status, but I’d rather be Val unless absolutely necessary,” he said.

“I’m not actually a priest, sorry I didn’t correct you sooner,” Bellamy added, looking a little sheepish. “If we want to get very technical, somewhere on the rank flow-chart I’m equivalent to an acolyte with an exceptional level of authority? But my actual title is Lieutenant-Enforcer.”

“Shouldn’t you have gotten a promotion with the Eldest?” Val mumbled.

“To what, Senior Lieutenant-Enforcer?” Bellamy scoffed, “Whatever promotion I got is entirely on the priestly side of things, not the Sunsguard side of things, and that title is far too long besides. I’m just fine with what I’ve got.”

Garth found himself laughing, leaning against the wall and ignoring the worried looks the other two were sending his way for the moment, because while this was perhaps a little due to hysteria, it was all just so very _ironic._ Bertrand had always called them his enforcers, and it had taken Garth years to figure out the man’s glee over the title hadn’t just been from watching the few clinging to their consciences wince or cringe every time he said it, but had been due also to the fact that Enforcer was an _actual rank_. A rank Bertrand had no right at all to hand out.

“Bertrand called _us_ his enforcers, he did that for years,” Garth finally managed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and biting back the now more than slightly hysterical giggle threatening to escape, “Just – funny to think that an actual Enforcer might be the key to me never having to be called that again. That someone called an enforcer could _help_.”

“It’s not exactly a title that inspires confidence in and of itself,” Bellamy agreed quietly.

“No, no it’s not,” Garth said, hesitating before crouching at Val’s side, “Means you’re a Firestarter, then.”

Val was staring at him like he was an executioner, and didn’t say a damn word for a long moment. If Val’s eyes weren’t clear, if his expression wasn’t alert, Garth would easily believe he’d slipped back into a dazed state like he’d spent quite a bit of their walk. But he was just quiet. Finally, Val admitted to what they all already knew, saying, “Name’s Valerik. Second Order Firestarter.”

“Huh,” Garth said, hearing it aloud somehow still a surprise, before he remembered something and glanced at the Lieutenant-Enforcer, saying, “You said you found the plot Val is being framed for – it’s something people would think a Firestarter capable of?”

“Enough volatiles to destroy a good portion of the southern charity temple,” Bellamy said, smiling bitterly, “Fire and dead children, of course they’d think it was a Firestarter.”

Valerik’s pained noise drew their attention and Bellamy winced at the other man’s stricken expression, curling a hand around the back of Val’s neck and murmuring, “Apologies, Valerik, that was unkind of me.”

“No, no it’s – it’s _true_,” Valerik said, expression going tight and eyes squeezing shut, head bowed, “It’s exactly what would happen. People would believe it of me. Of any of us. It would have _worked_.”

“It would not have,” Bellamy retorted sharply, eyes narrowing, “Valerik _it would not have_. Neither Kir nor I would _ever_ believe that of you, and we would raise _hell_ to get a proper, truth-compulsioned investigation run. Without Nolans here we might not have pinned down Bertrand as the conspirator, we might not have been able to find the actual perpetrator, but we would have damn well proven your innocence, understand? Kir’s already scolded Grevenor for jumping to conclusions, he’s said the same damn thing to Henrik when Henrik started begging on your behalf. We _would not_ believe that of you.”

“Unless it was handled carefully, though, a lot of people on the outside might not see it as proving innocence,” Garth pointed out reluctantly, “They’d see it as Firestarters protecting their own from prosecution, regardless of the investigation’s conclusions. They’d think the investigation had a foregone conclusion the moment the Firestarters started pushing for it, and not because they would be trusting the Order’s judgment of one of their own. Hells, even now it might go that way, depending on how this investigation goes.”

There was a very long silence in the wake of that comment, three sets of eyes turning to him in the course of it, and Garth swallowed nervously but didn’t say anything else. It was all true, after all. Internal investigations were damn hard to run properly in the first place – to have the results accepted as accurate, as true? There was a _reason_ he and Maude had been working on gathering evidence and procedural strategies for years. He’d wanted Bertrand and Darius taken down, and taken down _properly_.

“What then, would you recommend?” the actual Enforcer asked, focus sharpening and it wasn’t until it did that he realized Bellamy hadn’t actually been looking at him for those long seconds, had been staring into the middle distance much as Honored Kari had been for his message relays. “Is there any process we could follow, or path we could take, to avoid that impression?”

=pagebreak=

_:Seizure’s stopped, eighty-four seconds,: _Anur reported, mental voice tight and Kir let out a quiet sigh of not-yet-relief. He had listened to Anur’s relay of Garth Nolans’ information, had confirmed with Kari that he’d relayed Maude Nolans’ situation to Jaina, but he was having a very hard time focusing on flame suppression when he’d gotten a flash of what Anur had seen, because Valerik –

It hadn’t looked good. He wanted to _burn _something.

“I think I’ve found something,” Grevenor called quietly, at least having the courtesy to not be too disruptive while Henrik was attempting to set up his wards – the area of concern thankfully deemed just within his capabilities.

Kir walked over to the man, crouched by a pyramid of barrels near a corner of the room, keeping his own voice just as low and half an eye on Henrik’s meditation, saying, “Is it removable?”

“Oh it’s just tucked out of sight, not anchored to anything – someone slid it into the gap between the rim and the actual lid. Do you have a knife I could borrow?”

Kir didn’t bother responding verbally and just handed over his knife, letting Grevenor carefully pry the anchor in question out and wishing he could be more surprised to find that it was a bracelet of stonework foci he recognized as Valerik’s.

Accepting his knife back from Grevenor, he waited for the man to say something – to _do _something besides stare at the bracelet in distaste – before growing impatient and saying shortly, “Well? Any spellcraft on it besides what was originally placed?”

“I would hardly be an expert on what is here to begin with,” Grevenor retorted, before shaking his head, “Protection, some sort of detection set, sparks. And most certainly Holiness Valerik’s.”

Before he could snap at the man for the verging on pitying expression on his face – because Kir was _not _being obtuse and stubborn about admitting one of his Firestarters had gone astray because none of his Firestarters _had _gone astray – he felt a flare of magic from Henrik and his own strain ease as the ward settled. Not much, Henrik’s flame suppression ward was definitely not the most efficient or effective, but it helped. It easily doubled how long he would be able to maintain this.

“I don’t know how much that helped,” Henrik said aloud, shifting from his meditative stance and looking Kir’s way, “Did it help at all?”

“It did,” Kir assured him, offering him a brief smile and admitting, “I can’t say your ward _alone_ would be much use, but it offers me additional support. Can you come over here and take a look at this bracelet? Valerik was your mentor, wasn’t he?”

Henrik went deathly pale at that, and moved a fair bit more quickly than Kir was comfortable with in a room this packed with volatiles, but before he could word a scolding Henrik was already at their side, staring at the bracelet Grevenor had dragged out and admitting, “That’s – that’s Valerik’s most basic set of foci. It’s the bracelet he wears when he goes out as Val.”

“And is there any spellwork on it that isn’t his? Or is more recent?” Kir prompted, ignoring Grevenor’s scoff but for a warning glance because the man was _not_ helping.

“No, it’s – it’s all his. But he wouldn’t _do_ this Eldest, he _wouldn’t_ please you have to believe me - !”

“Don’t be ridiculous, boy!” Grevenor barked before Kir could say anything, looking near disgusted as he held up Valerik’s foci with no respect at all, “The evidence is plain to see and your own _sentiment_ has no place in an investigation, much less one of this severity – “

“Holiness Grevenor you will _hold your tongue_,” Kir said, imbuing his voice with every ounce of the implacable authority he had cowed so very many people with over the years. It didn’t have as dramatic an affect on Grevenor as it had on others, but that was only sensible, the man was also on Solaris’ Council after all. At least it succeeded in cutting him off before he said something truly regrettable.

Before Kir’s hanging-on-by-fingernails control slipped.

“You will hold your tongue, Grevenor,” he repeated, holding his hand out, “And you will give me my Firestarter’s foci. Then, you will look for additional spark anchors and while you are at it you will think _very carefully_ on how utterly, willfully _stupid_ it would be for someone to leave personally crafted and constantly carried magical foci behind when spark anchors are so _very_ easy to make out of _anything_.”

Grevenor’s expression was a frozen, bland mask, and he dropped the foci bracelet into Kir’s palm near carelessly before turning on his heel to continue searching for potential spark anchors and trap spells. Hopefully, the man’s pride wouldn’t keep him from doing his job. Kir would like to think that one of Solaris’ chosen Council members would have more professionalism than that, and for the moment he would let himself assume it was so. He had to focus on Henrik.

“Henrik, are you all right?” he asked quietly, pressing the foci into Henrik’s hands and not liking the faint tremor he felt. He didn’t bother waiting for a reply and lowered his voice to a murmur, asking Anur for fresh information on Valerik and passing it along, “Henrik, Valerik is alive. Anur is with him. I cannot say he is completely _well_, he seems to have gotten caught in spell backlash from breaking an enchantment on him, but he is alive and he is coherent.”

“He is?” Henrik asked, voice almost breaking on the question and Kir nodded solemnly.

“Thank the Sunlord,” Henrik breathed, Kir more than willing to give him a few moments to regain his composure but Henrik quickly squared his shoulders, looking him in the eye with a worrying desperation as he insisted again, “Valerik would _never_, Eldest, he _wouldn’t _it’s not – “

“Henrik,” Kir cut him off, resting a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “Henrik, I _agree_ with you.”

Eyeing the way he nodded, the way Henrik closed his eyes and very consciously leveled his breathing, the way his empty hand clenched and unclenched, Kir could guess where some of this was coming from.

“Henrik. You don’t need to protect Valerik from me,” Kir said quietly, regretting, for a moment, the fact that he had spent so little time in Sunhame. That he was still such a relative unknown to so very many of his Firestarters, that this would be in _doubt_.

He would have gone mad.

All paths had their costs.

“I realize you have no reason to believe me,” Kir admitted, “But you don’t. I hope one day you will be able to believe that.”

“Now,” he continued briskly, eyeing Valerik’s foci bracelet, “Which of these is the spark spell?”

“There are three,” Henrik replied, pointing to each of them. Kir couldn’t recognize what they were carved out of, but it was some sort of black stone – all of it was stonework, which matched what he recalled of Valerik’s part of the foci summary nearly a year ago, and this one was definitely made to look deliberately casual and not particularly valuable. That made sense, if this was the one he always wore even when out and about as Val. Spark spells, probably a few flammability detection ones, possibly some spellwork that had nothing to do with fire but was useful nonetheless.

Perhaps he would be willing to add a tracking component at some point? Though with this situation it likely wouldn’t have worked, even if it _hadn’t_ been removed from his wrist. Given Kari’s difficulties anything simple would have been blocked, but it might be useful going forward. It was worth asking, but perhaps later. There clearly wasn’t enough trust between them now for Valerik to agree out of anything besides obligation, and that wasn’t an obligation Kir was comfortable demanding.

“Found another anchor,” Grevenor called from the other side of the storeroom, nothing in his tone giving any indication of what he felt about finding a less obvious anchor, but at least he _had _found one. Kir could take this as confirmation he was actually conducting the search properly, regardless of his opinions on Valerik’s guilt. “Unfortunately it’s in the middle of this pile, I don’t think we could reach it without unstacking everything.”

“Hmm,” Kir stalled, unsurprised when Henrik followed him over to Grevenor’s find, “Very well. When we start the literal dismantling we’ll have to prioritize this one. Does that complete the check?”

“Almost,” Grevenor replied, moving on to finish the room’s inspection.

_:Kari, any word from Jaina on this Maude Nolans’ bracelet?: _he asked.

_:She has found her, it’s a disgusting and subtle piece of work but she should be able to at least keep it from activating,: _Kari reported back, voice tense, _:I have just finished updating Captain Marghi of the basics of our situation, he says he can send some assistance our way on our word, but en force aid needs Justicar authorization, which Lumira says is on it’s way from Fourth Court, with the Justicar himself en route to the charity temple already, so I told him to wait for that authorization instead of responding to us immediately.:_

Kir nudged Anur’s mental presence next, his brother sending back reassurance with a dash of amusement, elaborating, _:Nolans thought I was a priest, called me Your Holiness, nothing too hilarious. What was that earlier, you felt furious?:_

_:Grevenor is… very confident that Valerik is involved in building this trap, and Henrik is furious at the implication and near terrified that I’ll believe it. I can’t quite tell if Grevenor _genuinely_ believes Valerik could be guilty or is just being thorough and Henrik is taking justifiable but disproportionate offense, but either way.:_

_:Even if Grevenor doesn’t believe it, it’s a fair enough point that a lot of people _will_. Probably the main reason this Bertrand character chose Valerik as the scapegoat.:_

_:Fires and dead children, of course it’d be one of us,: _Kir agreed, tone sour, _:Forget the fact that my Firestarters were more than half suicidal when the reforms came down, forget that two of our own students were at direct risk on a scheduled visit! Who else would be so cruel, would be so terrible?:_

_:Kir…:_

_:Apologies,: _Kir said, exhaling through his teeth and ignoring Henrik’s sidelong glance for the moment because he was so very frustrated. _:I just – did not expect that sort of response from a fellow Council member. I thought – well. It seems another reminder that people who I respect for their callings or their duties are not necessarily good allies was necessary after all.:_

_:I’d be curious to know just what made him so confident in Valerik’s guilt,: _Aelius said thoughtfully, _:True, you found Valerik’s bracelet there, but that seems very pointed evidence to leave lying around, and honestly, too obvious to be anything but a frame job unless we assume Valerik is an idiot.:_

_:Only because we found it,: _Kir pointed out, _:If this place had gone up – the bracelet itself would have been destroyed beyond recognition and as Valerik enchanted this personally, his magical signature would be drenched all over the scene. As long as properly trained individuals investigated… it would be easy to at the very least drag his reputation through hell and back.:_

_:…Story?:_

_:One of the tricks I pulled on Phyrrus relied on a similar strategy,: _Kir admitted, _:Less devastating, insofar as collateral goes, but the same concept. One moment, I think Grevenor has finished his inspection…:_

_:And Valerik has finally admitted aloud that he’s a Firestarter after Nolans guessed – sounds like we’re in a holding pattern for the Justicar’s authorization on your end, but we’ll probably head to the Outer Eighth Sector Station soon, I’ll keep you posted.:_

“Grevenor, anything else?” he asked aloud, glancing the other man’s way when he got in sight.

“No, just the one here and the bracelet,” Grevenor replied, eyeing him thoughtfully, “Any word from your Enforcer?”

“Valerik was rendered unconscious and was fighting off some form of enchantment on a bracelet strongly resembling this one,” Kir said, indicating the bracelet still in Henrik’s hands, “Anur is discussing things with the man who found him, the plan for the moment is to proceed to the Sector Sta – ”

_:Kir, sorry to interrupt, but Nolans raised a damn good point that if we don’t do this properly people could very well see the result of this investigation – the clearing of Valerik’s name – as Firestarter’s protecting their own rather than the actual true result of the investigation.:_

Kir closed his eyes, suppressing the urge to swear, because Nolans was right and the fact that the only non-Firestarter involved at the moment was Grevenor, who was very blatantly suspicious of them, was the only thing that might let them salvage this. When they had started, he hadn’t thought of investigating anything to clear a Firestarter’s name, he had been focused on reducing the threat and possibly getting a start on discovering who had done this.

The fact that the two of them knew Captain Marghi, had met with the man and promised aid to him in a personal matter, would not help.

_:Ask if he has any recommendations,: _Kir said finally, _:If they seem sensible we’ll follow through, but for the moment the best thing we can do is let the Justicar conduct their investigation independently of ours – nothing has been relayed to Laskaris and Colbern?:_

_:Nothing,: _Kari confirmed.

_:Keep it that way for the moment, and don’t pass on anything else to Captain Marghi just yet,: _Kir ordered, _:I need to check something with Grevenor and Henrik.:_

Opening his eyes, he glanced between the two, saw the absurdly tense stare-down they were in the middle of and couldn’t let it pass any longer.

“_Move. On,” _he said, wanting to flare flames so badly, his instinctive expression of agitation running straight into his desperate need to keep flames away and keep the surrounding area’s temperature as low and stable as possible. Gritting his teeth against the mental strain, he continued, “I will speak with _both_ of you regarding _whatever_ this all is, but _not now_. Grevenor, this spark anchor – can you tell what will set it off?”

“There seem to be multiple circumstances,” Grevenor said, “Based on complexity of each layer – I would guess that one is a timer, one is some sort of tether-snap, and one is a brute-force activation. Thinking of how a trap like this would be designed – I would guess the tether-snap is linked to something or someone getting too far away from this anchor – you said there was an enchanted bracelet with your Enforcer? I would recommend leaving it where it is, perhaps tucked out of sight, until it can be checked. The brute-force activation might be something I can block, but that would take a fair bit of time and there’s no real way to know what the timer is set to until it’s activated.”

_:Nolans’ suggestions boil down to what you said, let things run their course without steamrolling the investigation and try to keep Firestarter involvement at the higher levels at a minimum. Allow the Justicar to take the lead, basically.:_

_:Very well. But there’s one thing I’m not shifting from, and that’s Valerik’s health and safety. He is not going to the Sector Station, if Nolans needs someone to vouch for him to get him in, we’re taking advantage of the fact Kari can communicate with Captain Marghi to get him to hear Nolans out and take appropriate action. That seems to be all Nolans was after with Valerik’s involvement anyway?:_

A brief pause as that was relayed, so Kir spoke aloud and said, “I’m sending Valerik back to the Hall, so long as there are no perimeter spells anchored to him personally. I want the both of you to go to their current location to inspect this spell bracelet – Kari or Hansa will transport you – and then if Valerik can be moved to the Hall, then you both return here and we carry on trying to dismantle this or render it safer. If he has to stay where he is, Henrik, you’ll switch places with Anur and stay with him. Are there any objections to the plan I’ve just outlined?”

“The ward will weaken a bit if I leave it,” Henrik said, sounding like the admission cost him.

“That’s fine,” Kir assured him, cutting himself off when Anur spoke up.

_:All Nolans wanted was a way to ensure someone would listen to him instead of ignoring him, having Kari get Captain Marghi to meet with him and listen to what he’s saying is perfectly fine, though he wouldn’t say no to a truth compulsion being placed on him to ensure he’s believed.:_

_:…Have him offer that to the Captain, if the Captain says it’d be valuable or accepted and Kari is available to play decoy or do it himself, go with it. Either way we need to make sure the Justicar is aware that those truth compulsions are even options, Aelius could you - ?:_

_:I’ll remind Hansa to pass that message on – and it sounds like the Justicar has just arrived with a five-man squad in tow.:_

_:Thank the Sunlord,: _Kir and Anur both chorused, Kir continuing, _:I’m sending Grevenor and Henrik to you because one of the spark anchors might be activated if that bracelet he was wearing gets too far away from a designated point, and there might be something similar linked to Valerik personally. Henrik I’m sending because he’d fret terribly otherwise and if Valerik can’t be safely moved to the Hall I want him to switch places with you. Might want to do that at some point anyway, this spark anchor is in the middle barrel of a bottom layer, Fetching might help get it loose.:_

_:Let’s see if we can send Valerik away safely first and carry on from there,: _Anur proposed, _:Kari says he can come and get them, but requests they move to an area with minimal volatiles or at least to a reasonably cleared zone.:_

_:Agreed,:_ Kir said, saying aloud, “Right. Apologies – Grevenor, no objections?”

“Henrik could remain here until we know whether or not Firestarter Valerik can be moved, and cut down on the number of transports Honored Kari is managing,” Grevenor said, giving Henrik a pointed look that the younger man coolly ignored.

Kir refused to have any of it and stared the man down, saying flatly, “Yes, because clearly Henrik has expressed trust and respect for your attitudes towards his mentor. He would be on edge and worried about how you treated his teacher while he wasn’t there, and from what I have seen I cannot blame him. You are both going. Get over to a cleared area so Kari can come and fetch you both without being too close to volatiles.”

Naturally, the moment the two of them were almost clear, the buried spark anchor flared.

_“…I don’t want to have won anymore.”_

_“I wish _Ivan _had won.”_

_“I think we all wish Ivan had won.”_

_“Especially Uncle Kir!”_


	7. Jumps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative Title: The Chapter where MR Ended Up Creating a Flowchart For Who Was Where When

Anur’s vision blacked out, Aelius’ presence rushing forward to buffer against the sheer _roar_ that echoed down from Kir’s mind, and he couldn’t tell if the shaking he felt was actually the walls and floor or some strange feedback from Kir –

“_Breathe!_” he heard, feeling a palm slam against his back and he coughed, wheezing as his lungs started working again because that stunned and dazed impact hadn’t been from him, hadn’t been what he’d felt.

_:Kir!:_ he cried.

_:I’m alive fine. And fine. Alive and fine,: _was the less than convincing response.

“The trap went off?” Nolans asked, voice shaking and Anur forced himself to focus on his own surroundings and let Kir be. He was alive, that was true enough, and intensely focused on whatever mitigation he had managed to pull off mid-explosion, and Anur couldn’t just vanish on Valerik and Nolans without explaining.

“Not all of it,” Anur replied, meeting the man’s gaze and saying, “We’d have heard it ourselves if it had all gone off. Kir’s managed to stop some of it.”

_:Were there any other spark anchors beside the one that went? Can that one be set off more than once?: _Anur asked Aelius and Kari both, though the Firecat was looking about as dazed as he felt.

_:No way of knowing if it’s a one-time anchor or not, Chosen. There’s only one other anchor, Valerik’s bracelet – Henrik has that – but the anchor that went could have multiple stages. I doubt it does, it’s likely been entirely destroyed, but there’s no way of knowing for certain without finding it,: _Aelius reported, continuing, _:And Henrik and Grevenor are both alive, but from what Kari is reporting they’re not in any shape to move or search – and Kir certainly isn’t. Alive, dazed, but still working to keep things from igniting further. _Not_ safe for Hansa or Kari to go directly to him or even too close to the storeroom. Also, word from Jaina is that Maude Nolan’s bracelet has been isolated from any external activations, but they need more time to actually get it off her wrist safely.:_

_:Thanks Aelius,: _Anur looked at the two men with him and made his decision.

“Henrik, Kir and Grevenor are alive,” he reported, Valerik letting out a relieved sigh and immediately looking shakier than even a few moments ago, Nolans quickly following suit when Anur relayed, “Your sister’s been found, the bracelet can’t be set off by external activation, the only way it can go off is if she takes it off. Getting it to that stage will take more time.”

“Thank you,” Nolans breathed, “Thank you so much.”

Anur briefly squeezed the man’s shoulder, before saying, “Right then. We’re going to the charity temple, help me get Valerik on his feet for transit, I have no idea what sort of footing we’ll end up on.”

_:Hansa and I can find a stable patch, but might as well stand, then we can get you close to a bench and have a bit more mobility going forward,: _Kari relayed.

“On your feet, then,” Anur said, grabbing his coat off the ground.

“Why the charity temple?” Nolans asked, still ducking under Valerik’s other arm so they could help the man lever himself upright.

“Consolidating,” Anur replied grimly, “Another pointed out there might be tether spells anchored to you directly, Valerik, and until we have a solid no on that I don’t want you further away from the trap than this.”

“Fuck, that would make sense for a frame job perspective,” Valerik muttered, shaking his head and, by the gagging, immediately regretting that choice as his knees gave out.

They managed to catch him, Anur swearing under his breath and adding, “Once we get someone to look at you and confirm absence or unravel them, you’re going back to the Hall. Nolans, I’d consider it a favor if you kept Valerik’s actual job behind your teeth in public, the Justicar will have to be told, Valerik.”

“Fourth Court First Order? They already know,” Valerik huffed, head bowed.

“As for why I’m bringing you with, Nolans – you say people won’t listen, and it sounds like Bertrand has connections all over the Eighth. Talking to a First Order Justicar with two Firecats supervising gives much better odds of not getting brushed off.”

“A good point,” Nolans agreed, glancing between his oil lamp and Kari, glowing at their feet, before blowing the small flame out.

Anur nodded in the now even darker darkness, narrowed his eyes to slits so he wouldn’t be blinded when they were above ground, and said, “Get us out of here, Kari.”

Golden flames surged around them and he definitely heard a startled yelp from Nolans, but Anur had wrapped his arm over Nolans’ when he hooked his arm around Valerik’s waist for just this purpose. He had no idea if Kari could lose someone in those seconds a Jump lasted, but he definitely didn’t want to find out.

“Oh that was so much worse than usual,” Valerik wheezed, practically doubling over even with their support and Anur grimaced – the winter sunlight was a lot less forgiving than Kari’s glow and Nolans’ oil lamp. Valerik’s face was streaked with blood, and there was fresh crimson still trickling down his face. At least he, like most priests, went cleanshaven. Anur had chosen to skip shaving for a few moons once in his first years on Circuit and it had taken one fight with a broken nose for him to decide against it – it didn’t matter how many times he’d washed his beard, it had _still_ smelled like blood a week later.

Anur glanced around; true to his word, Kari had dropped them on a stable patch of ground, and even better, near a bench that pressed against a wall with no overhanging roof that might crush them if anything nearby _was_ less than stable. “That bench,” he said, jerking his head to indicate it and Nolans nodded, helping him haul Valerik towards it and sitting down with him, the priest leaning forward to brace himself on his knees in a much too late effort to let blood drip onto the ground instead of soak into his scarf and coat.

“Kari, stay with them for the moment,” he said, giving the pair one last glance before turning on his heel and striding over to where the others were picking themselves up off the ground.

“Enforcer Bellamy!” Colbern greeted, Anur offering Laskaris a hand to his feet. The whole group was inside the charity temple’s boundary wall and had evidently been knocked off their feet by the blast and more than a little stunned, if they were still in the process of getting up. Some of the courtyard was caved in, or rather blasted out, and one of the building’s facades was badly damaged… hopefully there wasn’t any structural damage, a secondary collapse could start this whole mess over again.

“Kir, Henrik and Grevenor are all alive,” Anur said, focusing on Kir’s presence for a moment and wincing, because that dazed-but-focused state was not something that was sustainable, “We need to get them out of there, I have no idea what state they’re in beyond alive. Laskaris, stay here, Colbern, you’re with me, and if I can borrow two of your Sunsguard, Justicar?”

“Of course,” the black-robe said, standing with his Lieutenant’s help, the officer giving a short nod and two of his four soldiers stepping forward – a Corporal and whatever the equivalent of an entry-level enlisted man was for the city guard. In the regular guard it was based on job title with add-ons of second, senior or head depending on rank. Maybe Patrolman?

“The men I brought with me are Val and the man who found him, potentially caught in an adjacent plot – Kari is with them,” he said, waving to the men in question and all of them glanced that way, Laskaris and Colbern both looking grim when they spotted Valerik’s condition.

“That’s his blood then?” Laskaris murmured, pointing to the coat Anur was in the middle of pulling off – Colbern had told the guardsmen to remove their wool coats to avoid static sparks, and Anur had definitely needed the reminder too.

“Yes,” Anur said, grimacing and finishing taking the coat off before pulling the wrapped bracelet out of its pocket and handing it to Laskaris, “Someone knocked him out and placed this on him, swapped it out for his bracelet, and whatever the enchantments are that are on it he was fighting them and it was – bad. Bleeding, seizure for over a minute, and that was after it was removed, before that he was apparently unable to think straight enough to even call for Kari and acting as though he were badly concussed. Seemed more coherent afterwards but still not well. If you could determine if sending him to the Hall would spring any traps, I’d appreciate it. He needs medical attention.”

“On it,” Laskaris agreed grimly.

_:Hansa, keep an eye on these two. I need to check in with Jaina,: _Kari at least somewhat broadcast – probably just to himself and Hansa, Laskaris didn’t even twitch and Anur knew damn well the man wasn’t comfortable with mindspeech yet. Hells, no one in this group even seemed to notice Kari leaving: the Justicar was heading for the priests and one priestess assigned to this complex, three Sunsguard in tow, Laskaris was busy staring at the silk-wrapped bracelet with an appalled expression, which Anur would follow up on later, and Colbern was heading for the stairwell with the soldiers they were borrowing. Anur followed, tossing his coat on a bench as he walked by.

_:Kir, we’re on our way to you and Colbern’s had us remove our wool coats. Are you pinned down or buried in any way? Can you move your limbs?:_

_:So many pistachios,: _Kir said, sounding dazed even though his mental presence was bright and sharp with a ferocious focus – whatever it was he was doing to keep things from spreading further, undoubtedly, _:Not buried or stabbed. Hurts though.:_

_:Yeah, I’ll bet,: _Anur said, grimacing at the sight of the dust-cloud billowing up from the stairs.

“I’ll get Kir, one of you with me the other with Colbern – if you need more help getting Grevenor and Henrik out, give a shout,” Anur told them, getting nods in return. Colbern had a silk scarf wrapped around his face, while the two guardsmen had their regular scarves pulled up. He should probably start carrying two filmy scarves at this rate – one in silk to be a magical insulator, and one in any suitable material to help avoid breathing ash and dust.

Maybe three – having an extra one for Kir couldn’t hurt.

The lighting was terrible, with the dust and the rubble and the fact they were underground, but there were two mage-lights near one another at one end, the main hole in the ceiling at the other and Anur was completely unsurprised to find that Kir’s presence was definitely at that end of the storeroom.

=pagebreak=

His eardrums had definitely burst. There was a terrible ringing and Grevenor’s chest was rising in too irregular a pattern for it to be ordinary breathing, he was trying to say something – or _shout _something, if the ringing was this bad for him – and Henrik couldn’t hear him at all.

Patting the prejudiced jackass on the shoulder, he slowly pushed himself up and off from where he’d tackled the older priest to the ground. Henrik didn’t like the man, but he was on Solaris’ Council and the only non-Firestarter in the room. They couldn’t afford to have him injured more severely than them, not without at least _trying_ to mitigate his injuries.

Whatever had happened, the Eldest had managed to stop it in its tracks. The two of them were still alive, the room itself seemed mostly intact, and the air was thick with flour and sawdust, pistachios scattered across the ground with chunks of barrels, and he hardly dared _breathe_ because there were _sparks_ –

But nothing was _igniting._

Henrik had heard some of the stories, had heard plenty of rumors and theorized limits. He had _seen_ the firestorm yesterday with his own eyes, and the even more impressive cat’s cradle of fire exercise the Eldest had used to test his own control of those golden flames.

Faint flares of light, when a spark caught nearby dust.

But nothing more than that. Somehow the Incendiary was suppressing the entire room so totally, so completely, that sparks with no reason to stop, with no reason to not _fill_ the air with fire, extinguished with barely a flicker to show they ever existed.

_Fire wants to burn, _he knew. Everyone knew, Third Truth. Everything about this situation, about this scenario, gave fire exactly what it wanted, exactly what it needed to thrive, and the Eldest was able to tell it no. To force it to stop.

Those rumors of the Comb fire extinguishing didn’t seem too outlandish anymore.

With the lights flaring around the room – fewer every moment, thank the Sunlord, whatever the Eldest was managing it couldn’t possibly be _easy_ – it took him a while to notice past his own awe and shock that one of the three steady orbs of light that should be illuminating this mess was missing.

The Eldest’s magelight was gone.

_He’s alive, don’t panic,_ Henrik told himself sternly, eyeing the path that was probably their best bet to finding him if he could manage to stand up, _If he wasn’t alive, we’d already be dead, and this is not something someone could pull off unconscious, either._

A third mage-light appeared, but in the wrong spot to be due to the Eldest, unless he had been flung _very_ far indeed and then he probably wouldn’t be capable of lighting said mage-light for entirely _different_ reasons. Hopefully whoever had come down here had remembered to leave their wool coats and such behind – it had been a dry couple of days and a static spark right now could very well be a disaster if the Eldest’s control slipped even slightly.

Colbern and Laskaris would know better. Hopefully it was one of them leading the group of… four?

Squinting and trying to figure out which shadowy figures were actually people and which were shadows of said people, Henrik managed a relieved sigh when he saw them split up. Half were heading for himself and Grevenor, which made sense as they had their own mage-lights to signal their presence, and the other half were heading towards where the Eldest must be.

Perhaps Honored Hansa was leading that set?

Grevenor was still trying to talk, uselessly, as Henrik still couldn’t hear him, and it looked like he was starting to cough instead. Resisting the urge to sigh, Henrik pulled his filmy scarf out of his pocket and handed it over to the man, miming the lower-face wrapping he needed to use. Even if he wasn’t use to working with fire, he was used to Karse, so Grevenor got the gist quickly enough but first pointed at his ears and obviously mouthed the phrase, “Can’t hear.”

_Of course you can’t hear that’s how explosions work_, Henrik would never say aloud, and instead made a few short gestures to ask for an injury summary.

By the blank look on Grevenor’s face, he didn’t know Ari’s Tongue, which was – fantastic.

To be fair, Firestarters really only used it for the Third Order Trials, but they still _learned _it and between Seras’ preferences for conserving knowledge and Kavrick’s determination to take all possible precautions on his work with volatiles, most of them could at least get by with the basics. Besides all of that, he considered Tristan a friend, and Tristan was very nearly fluent.

Fortunately for all of them, their searchers arrived, Colbern leading a similarly face-wrapped Sunsguard straight to them and crouching at Henrik’s side, asking him the exact question he’d just signed at Grevenor.

_Ear damage, _Henrik signed back, _Haven’t tried standing. Bruising. No impalements. Extra scarf? G useless._

Rather than sign a reply, Colbern pressed another scarf into his hands, lips definitely twitching at the last, less than generous remark. The Sunsguard wasn’t quite so composed, shoulders shaking in what was probably quiet laughter before he went on one knee next to Colbern and slowly made his own hand signs asking if he could help – not quite Ari’s Tongue, the way he had learned it, but Colbern had once mentioned the Sunsguard hand signals were a bit of a specialized variant, so that made sense. Honestly, Henrik was just glad they were actually mutually intelligible.

Colbern evidently knew that well, having already left to make his way over to Grevenor to try and figure something out to communicate – or just reaching the conclusion that as Grevenor wasn’t screaming or pointing at some mangled limb, he was probably fine. Or at least fine enough to get them out of here.

Sending a quick _yes, help stand _to the Sunsguard, Henrik slung an arm over the man’s shoulders and they both slowly stood. No terrible pain started flaring, and Henrik carefully let more of his weight rest on his own feet. He probably took longer than necessary for that process, but finding out that his knee couldn’t support his weight because it collapsed out from under him when he tried to stand was a mistake he really only needed to make once, and really _couldn’t_ afford to make here.

Looking the guardsman’s way – city guard, had to be. He didn’t have any of the bladed weapons issued to the Temple District Guard and bandit hunters never bothered carrying truncheons, in Henrik’s experience. Sunlord knew the Enforcer never did – he gave a one handed sign for _walk_ and the man nodded, not so much offering support as offering guidance when Henrik experimentally took a few steps. His balance also seemed fine, which was incredible all things considered, so he removed his arm from the man’s shoulder and signed, _Walking fine, thank you. Help C?_

The guardsman – some sort of rank, not just a Patrolman, but he couldn’t make out the number or shape of the bars on his shoulders between the dust and less than excellent lighting – shook his head and hesitated briefly before sending back, _C and G standing. Help you to stairs _and then a series of signs Henrik didn’t recognize. He carefully mimicked the first few of that series and gave a helpless shrug, looking over his shoulder to confirm that Colbern and Grevenor were in fact on their feet. Grevenor looked a little less than steady, Colbern was staying under his arm and gave Henrik an impatient wave to get moving when their eyes met.

He obeyed, the soldier walking close beside – ready to catch him if he stumbled or tripped, probably. The dust was starting to settle a bit, though he doubted it’d completely clear for weeks, even if they removed everything, but he could see things a little more clearly than blurry shadows and the wake of disturbed dust when someone moved. It made it easier to spot the three figures making their way towards the same set of stairs, and he offered the Sunlord a quick prayer of thanks when he realized the Eldest was on his own feet. Supported by his Enforcer, but not being carried or, worse, being left where he was due to some injury that barred him from moving or being moved.

He definitely didn’t look well, though, and required support from _both_ of the men with him to get up the stairs. Henrik managed without much help, but appreciated the steadying arm from his guardsman – there was refusing needless help and there was being _stupid_, and he had argued with Valerik far too many times about this exact issue to be a hypocrite now.

Oh hells – _Valerik!_

The Enforcer had kept going once up the stairs, leading the way out into the courtyard proper before easing the Eldest down to sit on a bench shoved up against the wall. Laskaris was there, immediately looking relieved but not moving from where he was standing near the Justicar – oh, excellent, it was Justicar Jeryl. It looked as though he was in the middle of some sort of group interrogation with the priests and one priestess from the temple. They were all looking distinctly pale and horror-struck, and almost entirely focused on the damage rather than what they were saying. Hopefully someone explained to these people how very much worse it could be and could _still _be, because they had been so very _lucky_ so far.

Abrupt flames made him flinch, but it was just Kari’s arrival and the Cat promptly went to the Eldest, butting his head against his knee and evidently saying something, by the Eldest’s faint smile. Now that Henrik could properly see him, he couldn’t help but wince, because he looked terrible – no way to identify a pallor after that explosion of flour and sawdust, but that powder made the Eldest’s blood streaked face far more noticeable.

Glancing at the others, he hesitated briefly because – well. He had no idea how close to the chest they were playing things regarding Valerik, for one, and for another the Eldest had his eyes closed and was breathing very deliberately. Kari and the Enforcer were definitely in the middle of some sort of mental conversation with him, too, but he had to know.

Perhaps Kari would hear him?

_Is Valerik okay?_ he thought as loudly as he possibly could, Kari definitely hearing him by the Cat’s wince and Henrik grimaced, because he hadn’t quite meant to _shout_ or whatever the equivalent is, but he really hadn’t tried this before.

_:Laskaris confirmed there are no tether spells anchored to him, so I brought him to the Hall. Kavrick is helping him get settled and is planning on pouring some tea down his throat while they wait for a healer to look him over. The backlash caused a severe seizure, so we’re being cautious, but aside from that he has bruising and is badly chilled, nothing else,: _Kari relayed, and by the Eldest’s relieved expression and his Enforcer’s easing shoulders, he’d been speaking to them as well. No one else seemed to react though, and he doubted the Sunsguard had ever heard mindspeech before.

_:Jaina has managed to get to a quiet place to work on the bracelet removal, and has asked if I can be spared to either aid her or to fetch someone else to aid her – I would lean towards the latter, as I have no idea how tiring unweaving that enchantment might be and I’d rather be able to continue relaying and serving as emergency transport.:_

The Eldest nodded at that suggestion, so he had apparently known about whatever bracelet Elder Jaina was working on, before his eyes snapped open and his gaze went straight to Henrik. He couldn’t quite suppress a flinch at the distant-eyed blankness that greeted him because he had heard that blasted rhyme more times this year than any other year in his life, but thankfully for his nerves, the Eldest’s eyes were able to properly focus on him soon enough and his hands carefully started to sign a question about his own status.

Rather than speak and rely on the Enforcer to relay for him and risk speaking too loudly or to quietly for polite company, Henrik signed his response right back, Colbern finally depositing Grevenor on another nearby bench and leaving with a brief sign of _water_ to explain his departure.

The soldier who’d helped him – a Corporal, as he could now see – had yet to leave and was watching their conversation with no little fascination, the Enforcer sitting down next to the Eldest and not speaking or signing at all, at least not in a way Henrik could detect. Undoubtedly he was still speaking with the Eldest or Kari with that mental speech Talent of theirs.

At the end of his status update – though for Grevenor he admittedly just signed _no screaming can walk is fine_ rather than any details, which prompted a huff of laughter from the Enforcer and a wry smile on the Eldest’s part – he asked, _no fires how long?_

_One mark, maybe_, was the rather grim response, and one Henrik was taking with a barrel of salt even without the Enforcer’s immediate scowl. The Eldest’s nose was still leaking blood, that faint tremor in his hands hadn’t gone away, he definitely wasn’t breathing in very _deeply_ for all that deliberation and only some of his tension could possibly be from pain. The rest was strain.

But the remaining danger was truly a _hazard, _rather than a threat, now that the anchors were either removed or expended. An insanely dangerous hazard, and one far too easy to trip into on accident, in his mind, but a hazard, nonetheless. The children were long gone, at least, and the whole place was evacuated. With the right precautions – they might be able to get this dismantled safely.

The Eldest apparently had a similar thought, though it took Henrik a moment to realize that he was actually speaking to Kari with his Talent and echoing his words with Ari’s Tongue. It was – rather appreciated, actually, and something to keep in mind going forwards with mindspeaking etiquette, now that he thought of it.

_Update all, get help to J, _was easy enough to interpret. The flurry of signs that followed seemed to boil down to stating that the Eldest would need to stay here for the removal process, perhaps have Sunsguard assigned to secure the scene or help with removal depending on the Justicar’s preference, but someone who could hear would need to actually supervise the process and give a safety briefing and somehow corpses were involved. Oh, right, Colbern’s suggestion to use corpses for removing the crates and barrels.

He waited for Kari to say his farewells and depart before bringing up his point, waving slightly to draw attention to himself and signing his question, _Corpses food safe?_

That gave the Eldest pause, before huffing a laugh and responding, _Fair point, ask locals_.

They both were completely ignoring the Sunsguard’s spluttering and the Enforcer’s definitely amused verbal explanation that Henrik felt like he could hear at least a bit – time would tell if it was wishful thinking or not. Even if the Corporal wasn’t able to understand all the hand signs they used, _corpses food safe_ were each signals the Sunsguard would definitely know individually, and not signs one would ever really want to group together.

Henrik suspected that now the spark-anchors were removed the local priests would prefer they not use corpses to move things. The flour that had scattered was a lost cause, but the pistachios could be cleaned up and the barrels only leaking flour could be salvaged – but not if rotting corpses had tramped all over them.

The Eldest paused mid-sign and his expression abruptly switched to an exasperated fondness, and Henrik didn’t need the way he rammed an elbow into his now laughing Enforcer’s ribs to know who had spoken up to prompt the expression. It really was a good thing that the Eldest and his Enforcer had owned up to the mindspeaking Talent they shared. He wouldn’t say they had been _obvious_ about it, but they had definitely been slipping, and as obvious as they were now the concealment had definitely taken effort.

_You don’t need to protect Valerik from me. I hope one day you will be able to believe that, _the Eldest had said.

He had never needed to protect Valerik from anyone, not really. Until Solaris, none of the people who considered Valerik’s odder habits and customs worthy of disdain had been appreciable threats. It didn’t mean he hadn’t gone out of his way to find leverage on the worst offenders, but he hadn’t felt desperate, hadn’t felt like Valerik, like any of the Firestarters, were truly under threat.

But with the reforms, a lot of that inherent threat had been lost, and he _didn’t know_ their new Incendiary. He had never heard more than the occasional _mention_ of the man, and suddenly he was now their highest authority, barring Solaris herself! He had been _worried_.

He probably didn’t need to be.

Hopefully he’d be able to truly believe that soon.

=pagebreak=

“I hadn’t realized Sunpriests had their own version of hand signals,” the Corporal said, Anur glancing over at the man after he managed to stop laughing. Kir hadn’t appreciated his reminder of one of Markov’s nightmare stories regarding corpse-cooks – the one Jer had always gleefully called the _corpses in the kitchen _story and had always resulted in them demanding Markov _never _try to help their Ma cook, even though that reaction really didn’t make much sense. One of Markov’s allies or enemies _had _to have been a necromancer, far too many of his supposedly-true stories involved animated corpses.

He was a little surprised that the guardsman hadn’t returned to his squad; Anur had sent his partner off for water, he wanted to get Kir’s face cleaned off and a damp scarf around his face, because all this dust and powder couldn’t possibly good for him to breathe in. But it looked and sounded as though the Justicar – he needed to get the man’s name and actual title – had things well in hand at the moment with his three remaining guardsmen and Laskaris, and was possibly even wrapping up whatever questioning he was doing of the currently available staff.

He couldn’t help but notice that there were only three members of the priesthood – far too few for it to be the full roster. If Nolans’ information held any truth at all, Bertrand would be among the ones absent.

But he could ask about that later. Right now, the Justicar had things well in hand, he had Kir to worry about, and the Corporal was evidently fascinated by the hand signal conversation the Firestarters were having.

“I’ll be honest, I rather forgot,” Anur admitted. Kir had made a reference to knowing hand signals before he joined the Sunsguard – there had even been a hilarious moment of mutual spluttering when the twins had slipped up and admitted that in their ‘welcome to the 62nd’ briefing there had been a fully spelled out warning that the Firestarter chaplain was more than fluent in Sunsguard handsigns so _be smart_. It hadn’t come up since, though, and Kir had never used hand signals outside of the basic Sunsguard signals Anur had picked up over the years. Even his effort to learn more of those had rather fallen by the wayside this past year, with Kir so much more willing to mindspeak.

“Silly thing to forget though,” he added, smiling wryly, “It’s called _Ari’s Tongue_, of course they know it. The Sunsguard apparently just borrowed it and have added enough specialized signs and meanings it would probably count as a dialect in its own right.”

“Sunsguard sign is simplified – some specialized words, but no real sense of grammar and the like,” Colbern corrected, back in earshot and setting his bucket of water down by Kir’s feet, Anur quickly tugging Kir’s _bishra _scarf out of his brother’s sleeve. He paused in handing it over to Kir, frowning as he unrolled it and laughing when he pulled a few sprigs of sage out of the scarf. Tucking those under his wrist sheath, he pressed the scarf into Kir’s hands.

“Sage, really?” he asked aloud, making sure to echo his words mentally, “And I thought _Henri _was the one with the sage addiction.”

_:He takes it to extremes, but he’s not completely unreasonable,: _Kir retorted, wiping his face clean of at least most of the flour and dust and blood that had caked it with one end of the soaked scarf and wringing out the clean end before holding it over the lower half of his face to breathe through.

“In the context of your lives I would think carrying sage is a perfectly reasonable thing to do,” Colbern said, raising an eyebrow at him. Anur huffed a laugh and nodded, because Kir and Colbern alike had a point, and the priest returned the nod before continuing, “I snagged the bucket from the patrolman and sent him back to Justicar Jeryl. What’s the situation below?”

“Kir claims he can keep suppressing flames as totally as he currently is for another mark,” Anur said, taking shameless advantage of the fact that Kir couldn’t physically hear him to tack on a dry, “Which we will be assuming is an overestimation – ow!”

Kir had elbowed him in the ribs again, raising an eyebrow and saying smugly, _:You were broadcasting.:_

“I was _not _broadcasting,” Anur grumbled, filing that away to think over later. He was sitting close enough to Kir their thighs were pressed together, so if he had actually been mindspeaking he would have expected Kir to overhear him unless he and Aelius were very focused on shields. He _hadn’t_ been mindspeaking though, so now Kir could apparently listen in when they were in physical contact even if he _wasn’t_ directly mindspeaking to anyone.

Aelius had said the scar aggravation might have resulted in stronger mindspeech for Kir, but they had all been hoping that wouldn’t be the case. Damn it. Something to follow up on later, though, and Anur continued, eyes narrowing, “Aside from that, assuming it’s an overestimation is safer for all involved. Also, you are _still bleeding, _can you please focus on that?”

_:You do remember the Comb Fire?: _Kir replied dryly, pinching the bridge of his nose again and shifting his scarf so it was just over his mouth. Blood had already soaked into his wool scarf on the walk up, but at least Ma had made that one red _and _out of a sturdy wool.

“The Comb Fire had different complications!” he retorted, _:And benefits, because I don’t think we can count on the ghost of Lavan Firestorm coming to the heart of Sunhame to help us out right now. Also – given I remember from his records, he might not be helpful in a ‘don’t let the fire even start’ scenario.:_

_:Yes let’s not invite that,: _Aelius said insistently, adding on, _:Kir, on that note, I do remember the Comb Fire, and I also remember the mental strain you were under. I could _feel_ it, Kir, and this is a different sort of mental exertion. I trust your estimation, but I don’t understand how you can say that you can maintain it a mark now, when you told me that same time span nearly half a mark ago.:_

Kir shifted his free hand so rather than hanging limply over his knee it was more easily visible to the group, making one handed signals that… definitely offered some understanding, but without both hands he was a lot more limited in what he could say. Anur would probably have to summarize afterwards regardless, but for the moment he would focus on Kir’s mental reply.

_:Part of that was my own habits – I’ve allowed myself a lot of freedom when it comes to manipulating temperatures and fire in my immediate vicinity. Flaring heat, those golden flames hovering right over our clothes and skin, rain of sparks – I could keep things from truly igniting so I let my own aggravation and the like express itself that way. In a delicate situation like this, I had to remove all of that habitual manipulation, had to consciously avoid it, and it’s not like this situation _wasn’t_ one that would be aggravating in and of itself. Now that I’m not in the middle of the storeroom, now that I don’t have to be immediately present to have a chance to stop Sunlord only knew how many spark anchors, I don’t need to exert that effort – or at least not as much of it,: _Kir explained, hesitating before admitting with a grimace, _:That’s not to say that the aftermath of this effort isn’t going to be terrible. Physical pain and bruising, certainly, but I’m going to be – badly out of balance. I wouldn’t be surprised if the moment I stop focusing so much on suppression there’s a backlash and we’re in the middle of one of those firestorms like – like after Kiara.:_

_:Good thing we’re going to be in the middle of a Conclave of Firestarters,: _Anur said, not able to use humor to hide his worry but trying anyway and feeling Kir’s rush of fond agreement at the sentiment.

Anur felt his lips twitch into a reluctant smile before he looked to Colbern, summarizing the more immediately relevant bit, “The mark estimate is more accurate than I initially thought, there’s been some change in circumstance that make it reasonable. How much dispersal can be done in a mark? Enough to be effective or will we need to figure out another suppression mechanism for afterwards?”

“Another mechanism can’t hurt,” Colbern said frankly, eyes narrowing and his hands flashing through handsigns that presumably echoed his words for Henrik’s benefit. Kir wasn’t watching, he had shut his eyes and was once again focused mostly on fire suppression, though Anur made sure he kept quietly relaying Colbern’s words into Kir’s mind.

Henrik waved a hand to get their attention and quickly signed, _my job_, Colbern nodding shortly and continuing, “If you can re-establish your ward, that would help. The other option is getting Seras or Kavrick over here, though I understand the inclination to keep them away for their students’ sake. Regardless, more Sunsguard are due from the Outer Eighth to assist in dismantling, so between them, the volunteers from the staff that Laskaris and Hansa have cleared to help, and Liljan and I, we can utilize all the stairwells. That will make things faster.”

Henrik insistently signed the rather hilarious combination of _corpses food safe_ again and by Colbern’s momentarily appalled expression he _also_ misinterpreted what Henrik was trying to say for at least a heartbeat before his expression switched to an exasperated annoyance.

“We can contaminate the fallen foodstuffs and broken barrels, there wasn’t that much in proportion to what they have there. Besides, none of it was supposed to be there, or at least very little of it was supposed to be there. Whatever is left is pure surplus, they have no right to whine,” he said shortly, signals very emphatic with that same tone, “Liljan found six usable corpses, by the way, she’s en route with a covered wagon.”

“_Walkers_,” the Corporal said, rubbing his face tiredly, “That is going to be – such a fun briefing. For the safety measures – would Holiness Laskaris be able to assist in supervising that? It would be better to have multiple sets of eyes on any helpers we have to ensure things are done properly and it sounds like yourself and Holiness Henrik will be occupied.”

“Certainly possible,” Anur said for Kir, though Kir’s one-handed _yes_ was easy enough to interpret, continuing for himself, “Some of that depends on Justicar Jeryl and what he needs for the investigation. But for the moment it sounds like we can consider the currently available resources enough for the dispersal effort, though if that changes, we can revisit it.”

“Holiness Jeryl will want to speak to you, Enforcer,” the Corporal said, “And at some point he will undoubtedly wish to speak to everyone who was below, though that can obviously wait until the dispersal is completed.”

“And hopefully they can hear again,” Anur added dryly, exchanging a nod with the man before he set off to update the Justicar. Before Anur could ask about their next steps, though, Kir coughed a few times and he sent a worried look his brother’s way because he’d been fretting about _that_ for years now.

_:Your lungs all right?:_

_:…probably?:_

_:Kir!:_

_:Anur I was slammed into a pile of barrels by an explosion, I wouldn’t be surprised if I have fractures, hells I’m lucky it doesn’t feel like anything has fully broken! I’m lucky I didn’t break my neck! Everything _hurts_, and that’s on top of the mental strain from the flame suppression. None of my ribs have broken and punctured a lung by trauma again – my bad lung has some sharp pains in it, I definitely want to avoid coughing as much as possible, but it hasn’t collapsed.:_

“There is a very large swath of territory between ‘my lung has collapsed’ and ‘my lungs are just a little sore’ which contains the ‘my lung has been repunctured due to impact’ option!” Anur cried, knowing it was useless because Kir couldn’t hear his voice and making damn sure his mindspoken echo held the exact same level of frustrated worry.

“Wait, what?” Colbern asked, sounding properly alarmed and Henrik picking up on that, shooting his own worried look their way.

Anur met Kir’s flat stare, and knew he wouldn’t win this argument.

Running a hand down his face, he exhaled between his teeth and switched entirely to mindspeech, _:Kir. How necessary is your active fire suppression?:_

_:There are fewer sparks now than at first, but it’s dry enough and the airborne volatiles are thick enough that static sparks are happening even without anything else agitating them,: _Kir said grimly, _:Anur, I _can’t_ leave. Henrik’s fire suppression ward gave me extra support, but on its own it’s as good as useless in this situation. Perhaps when things are more dispersed, when the powder is less thick in the air, it will be more effective, but as it stands? I’m the only thing keeping this entire facility from being torn down around our ears.:_

“All of our options are terrible,” he grumbled aloud.

_:So we pick the one we hope we can live with later,: _Kir said, Anur nodding because that was perfectly true before he paused, eyes narrowing.

“_I _told you that!” he spluttered.

_:What, and because you said it, it’s less true?: _Kir teased, Aelius chortling in the background.

_:He’s got you there, Chosen!:_

“That is not what I meant and you know it!” he protested to them both, feeling his lips twitching into a smile regardless. Sighing, he shook his head and focused again on their current crisis.

“Henrik, will you be able to reestablish your ward? The anchors are somewhere in the middle of that mess,” Anur asked, hesitating over how he could ask that with his own limited knowledge of Ari’s Tongue but Kari evidently relayed his message for him, Henrik’s gaze darting between him and the Cat.

Henrik’s hands flew through his response, Kari translating, _:He can sense some of the anchors still in place, but he would need to reestablish a boundary. Best bet would be for him to borrow some of Kavrick’s anchors to fill in the gaps. I can take him to get those.:_

_:Can you get Grevenor out of here while you’re at it?:_

_:And _not_ leave him in the Hall?: _Kir added, voice distinctly sour.

Anur raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t say anything. The Hall was a shelter and a safe place within the District for all the Firestarters; Grevenor’s attitude wasn’t one that would be welcome there. He just hadn’t expected Kir to state it quite so blatantly.

_:I will drop him off with Solaris and Karchanek,: _Kari said loftily, _:And ask you, Aelius, to ensure Her Emminence is properly informed of the entire story.:_

_:Already done,: _Aelius replied, definitely smug, and more than a little gleeful.

Solaris was not going to be particularly sympathetic to Grevenor’s bias, after all.

_:_Don’t_ make me laugh, witch-horse!: _Kir groaned, shoulders shaking with suppressed snickers. He managed to avoid properly laughing, though, which was a relief.

“Right then, Kari, please do so,” Anur said, the Cat nodding and herding the two priests close enough together he could Jump with them both.

He had to shake his head at the body language he’d just watched, because that was _terrible, _and not just because of the horrible herding cats pun.

_:I realize you said that there was some tension there, but _wow,_:_ he muttered, Kir grimacing.

Anur focused on Colbern next and said, “Right, Kir needs to stay here, Henrik establishes his ward, there will likely be fire surrounding Kir which is fine, but should probably happen further away and nowhere near entrances people will be using to move volatiles. Yourself and… Liljan, right? Will be handling the corpse crews, will you be able to supervise Sunsguard crews at the same time or will that be an exclusive focus?”

“Safer to veer towards exclusive,” Colbern said.

“We’ll definitely need to leave Laskaris behind then,” Anur murmured, brow furrowing, “The Outer Eighth is sending some men, no idea how many, the man who found Valerik is here to give testimony, he’s been blackmailed, Jaina is with his sister unwinding that, hopefully almost wrapped up, all we have left – right. I’ll stick to the Justicar and offer aid in the investigation. Hopefully my being Enforcer rather than Firestarter will keep questions of bias in the investigation to a minimum, but I’m not comfortable with our Order having no one involved in the investigative aspect, not now.”

“Not ever,” Colbern agreed, voice sour before it lightened again, the man saying briskly, “A reasonable strategy. I’ll help you get the Eldest further away, that bench where you tossed your coat should be safe enough and still be in range.”

The bench in question wasn’t too far, and Kir was able to walk with only Anur’s support, but standing and sitting required both of them easing him through the motions.

_:We might be begging Kari to take us to the 62nd, depending on fractures,: _Aelius pointed out, Anur wincing.

_:Even if he hasn’t broken anything, I think I’d prefer it,: _Anur admitted, pulling his coat back on and careful to keep those words for Aelius alone, _:It’s winter, current dry spell aside, going north we’ll be riding straight into the teeth of whatever storms are out there and his lungs…:_

“Ah! Liljan’s here!” Colbern said, huffing a laugh, “And it looks like those Sunsguard you mentioned arrived right on her heels. Fun preview for them. You will be all right here, Eldest?”

Kir caught the handsigned question and nodded, signing a response back without bothering to translate for him, but Anur was able to catch the basic gist – assent and thanks.

_:I should grab Nolans and head for the Justicar,: _Anur said, but he sat down next to Kir.

Kir hummed quietly, pressing their knees together and agreeing, _:You should.:_

They breathed quietly for a few more moments, before Kir clicked his tongue against his teeth and carefully undid his coat, reaching into an inner pocket and pulling out his sun-blessed steel Sun in Glory.

_:Give me an arrowhead or two, just in case, but you should take this,: _Kir said, Anur freezing when Kir pressed it into his hands.

_:Kir, why would I need this at all?: _he protested, curling his fingers around the medallion regardless. He couldn’t let it _drop_.

_:I will not have anyone doubt that you speak for me,: _Kir said flatly, intent focus and humming tension momentarily fading under a bone-searing fury, _:I want the people involved in this plot found, exposed for what they are and _ruined_. This could have _shattered _us. Could have set us back to the very start and even further, scrabbling to dig ourselves out of the condemnation people send our way, and I will _not_ see them get away with the attempt.:_

Anur felt his eyes narrow, his face twist into a snarl, because Kir was right. He could see it playing out that way himself, and he very much agreed.

Bertrand and his associates wouldn’t be getting away with this.

He settled the chain around his neck and passed Kir two arrowheads in exchange.

Anything further was interrupted with Henrik’s arrival, Kari appearing with him right in front of them, the younger man looking more than a little nauseated this time. Transits got rougher the more often you did them in rapid succession, and Henrik hadn’t had much chance, if any, for Kari to Jump with him this past year. Oddly, though, Henrik was carrying a basket?

“Why the basket?” Anur asked, knowing Kir was just as bemused.

“Maltin sent snacks?” Henrik asked more than said, apparently able to hear at least somewhat. His voice was a little louder than necessary as he continued, “I went to get Kavrick’s anchors and Maltin ran over with this basket. It has flasks of lemon water and some bread and hard cheeses.”

“Maltin is brilliant,” Anur said, Kari purring a laugh and Henrik grinning, dropping red silk into Anur’s hands before setting the basket at Kir’s feet.

“Kavrick intercepted us too, said you should take that. Lumira and Fabron finished the additions while you two were gone, though it looks like the Eldest lent you a different sign of authority.”

“Sash is a little less open to interpretation though, I’ve already been called Holiness once today,” Anur murmured absently, unfolding the sash to inspect it while Henrik set off with his replacement ward anchors. Lumira and Fabron had been working on Kir’s vestments since early autumn, when Jaina had approved Kir’s old winter weight formal vestments. They had asked to look at his sash when he left it behind for the visit to the Dineshes, but he had thought they wanted to look at Kir’s embroidery or check for any of Kir’s potential string magic, not that they had planned to modify his sash themselves!

Not too much had changed though – still crimson silk with Kir’s carefully embroidered golden Sun in Glory on one side, but Fabron and Lumira had sewn a thin stripe of gold fabric along each of the long edges, running end to end. Running his finger over the stripe, he frowned as he felt clumps of something underneath the fabric, resting between the gold cloth and the crimson backing.

_:Knots anchoring their protective spells,: _Kir explained, running his fingers along the edge of the sash himself while Kari looked on, equally intrigued, _:Looks like they properly settle when you’ve tied the sash on – you’ll want to make sure you fully untie it every time you remove it, then, that will keep the spells from wearing out too soon. I’ll have to ask them what they did, I don’t recognize some of these beyond basic protective intent.:_

“I like it,” he decided, pulling his coat off and standing so he could properly tie the sash on. Just as well he’d just thrown his coat over his Sunsguard uniform for their venture into Sunhame – with all the trappings of rank on the shoulders and arms of the uniform, so long as he’d kept his coat buttoned and his scarf snug, there’d been no reason to change.

The modifications didn’t alter how he had to tie the knot, which was even better, and Anur put his coat back on before resting a hand on Kir’s shoulder, murmuring, _:Do you want your Sun in Glory back?:_

_:No, keep it,: _Kir said, leaning back against the wall behind him and exhaling slowly, _:I’m going to be surrounded by fire in the next few moments. I won’t be needing any additional signs of authority. You might. That’s a First Order Justicar, and I’ve never dealt with him before.:_

_:Good thing I’m rather immune to shock-and-awe on the part of priests,: _Anur said dryly, picking up the food basket and eyeing it, asking, _:If I set this next to you so you can touch it, will it not get set on fire?:_

_:Leave a flask and a hunk of bread with me, set it somewhere else so the others can get to it,: _Kir replied, Anur nodding and doing just that, and utterly unsurprised at the flickers of flame that started appearing in the air around them.

_:Don’t scare the locals too badly,: _Anur teased, hesitating before saying more seriously, _:Kir, if you need to leave, if your lungs get worse – please.:_

Kir held out a hand and tangled their fingers together when Anur clasped it, his brother smiling wryly, _:I’ll do my best.:_

_:And that’s all I can ask of you,: _Anur agreed, huffing a laugh. _:All right, now I really do need to get Nolans to the Justicar.:_

_:Good hunting, brother. Try not to stab _too _many people.:_

_:Well that leaves me _plenty_ of flexibility!:_

Aelius and Kir were both mentally laughing at him, Anur grinning before turning on his heel with Kari pressing himself against his side. Glancing Nolans’ way, he was unsurprised to see the man on the same bench he had left him, and equally unsurprised to see he was sitting slumped forward, braced against his knees and head bowed. Perhaps he was tired, was exhausted, from his story he had been through a lot of shocks in the last few days.

Perhaps he was making sure the guardsmen of the Outer Eighth Sector Station couldn’t get a good look at his face. Regardless, Anur would leave him be for a moment, just keep an eye on him to make sure he stayed put and wasn’t interfered with. The Justicar was giving the new arrivals a briefing, he could pull the man over to listen to Garth Nolans afterwards.

“And how did Grevenor handle his second Jump of the day?” he asked quietly, the Firecat chuffing in amusement and shaking his head.

_:Not well – but he also just experienced some serious concussive force, even if Henrik managed to block some of it with his own body, Henrik is also much younger. I doubt Henrik noticed, but when Solaris clasped his hand in thanks he was at least somewhat healed. A subtle bit of help.:_

_:Better for us, in this case,: _Aelius pointed out, voice grim once again, _:If we’re trying to avoid leaving anyone with the impression that influence and power bought the verdict… best to keep things subtle. Kir is going to be dramatic enough as it is.:_

_:Oh he is going to hate the stories that come out of this,: _Anur thought ruefully, spotting Laskaris’ startled expression and how the man’s gaze was locked over Anur’s shoulder.

_:He’ll get over it,: _Aelius said, though his tone was sympathetic. _:At least with Maltin’s influence over the golden flames it’s not just him this season.:_

_:A very good point!: _Anur cheered, handing Laskaris the basket and distracting the priest from his staring.

“Maltin sent snacks,” he explained, the man’s confused expression melting into a surprised fondness.

“And I thought we adults were supposed to be the ones fussing,” Laskaris murmured, shaking his head before focusing on Anur, “So, Colbern and Henrik will be staying here, as will the Eldest, I assume?”

“He will,” Anur agreed, glancing past Laskaris to where the Justicar was giving a briefing to the twelve men that had arrived from the Sector Station. Only one Sergeant, though there were three Corporals. He was going to have to ask someone how city guard was organized, between that and the Justicar’s own bizarrely structured five-man squad he had no idea how this shook out in number of squads.

“Unless he has objections, I’ll be accompanying the Justicar and offering whatever aid I can to the investigation, have a fair bit of information for him too,” Anur said, meeting Laskaris’ gaze again, “Colbern says it’d be better to assume his focus will be exclusively on his corpses, and Henrik needs to get this ward set up. My thought is to have you stay here to serve as additional supervision and ensure things are placed far enough apart and safety measures are being abided by, while also ensuring no one is quite so stupid as to try and knife Kir in the ribs.”

“Henrik said something about a repunctured lung?” Laskaris asked, eyes narrowing.

Anur grimaced, “He says it’s not at that point yet, but with all the dust and possible coughing…”

“Hells, and I can still see sparks in the dust-cloud that’s down there, we can’t afford him leaving,” Laskaris grimaced, pulling the silk-wrapped bracelet out of his pocket and passing it to him, “Justicar Jeryl knows I have it, but hadn’t properly examined it yet. If my focus is switching from the investigation, you should take it. I’ll see if we can salvage any pieces of the spark anchor in the course of the dispersal but I doubt anything survived. I’ll stay and supervise, and stand as close to that… miniature firestorm as I dare.”

“Thank you, Laskaris,” Anur breathed, letting some of his worry fade and finally glancing over his shoulder to see this so-called firestorm.

A little more dramatic than the meditation circle that Fabron had found so startling, but far less than the firestorm that had immediately followed Kiara’s visit. He would even say less dramatic than what had happened after Silas’ accidental ambush, and _certainly_ less dramatic than Maltin’s firestorm.

“And you barely even pause,” Laskaris said, sounding more than a little bemused, “That is nothing to you, isn’t it.”

“I wouldn’t say nothing,” Anur replied, meeting the man’s gaze and smiling faintly, “But I’m certainly used to it by now. Justicar’s name is Jeryl, and he’s First Order?”

“Yes,” Laskaris confirmed, turning on his heel, “I’ll introduce you, they should be done with the situational briefing and ready for the how not to kill us all briefing.”

Anur nodded, not that Laskaris could see it, and glanced at Kari, who was looking a little worn – mostly obvious because Hansa was also in sight and looking distinctly fresher.

_:Are you all right, Kari?:_

_:…I’m a little tired,: _the Cat admitted, shaking his head, _:Jumping with passengers takes a fair amount of effort, and I stayed awake most of the night with Maltin after that firestorm. There’s a reason I wanted to get Jaina someone else to help with the bracelet removal. I brought her Ulrich, by the way. As it is – if I need to do more than a couple of in-Sunhame Jumps in the next few marks I will have to postpone helping Captain Marghi, which I’d really rather not do.:_

_:I was thinking on that – Kir’s spelled Sun-in-Glory will help protect his mind, but would one of my arrowheads potentially help?:_

_:It couldn’t hurt,: _Kari said thoughtfully, before shaking his head, _:Something to consider, certainly, but for the moment I will hope I can help him properly this evening. We really don’t know enough about what exactly sun-blessed steel can do.:_

“Are you going back to Jaina and Ulrich, then?” Anur asked, switching mediums and focusing on the more immediate issues, “Or are they fine on their own? Are you planning to stay here as an evacuation method if everything goes wrong? Should we have you swap out with Hansa? I don’t know how straining that Tell Me True working is.”

_:And I could do it, you could just be a prop,: _he added.

_:…That might be for the best, actually. I will ask Hansa.:_

“If Ulrich and Jaina need help, Hansa can take that job and you can stay here or vice versa, we can always pause truth-spelled questioning for a bit, and then whoever is more drained can take the truth spell angle,” Anur pointed out, glancing up when Laskaris reached the Justicar before looking back to Kari, “We can reassess then.”

_“A _repunctured _lung?!”_

_“Kiara, where is your alcohol? I need the help.”_

_“Oh Sunlord, being in touch with him is going to be harder on my nerves than not knowing at all...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was super excited to finally (FINALLY!) include the existence of Ari's Tongue - and not to worry, we will be seeing the full Third Order Trial when Etrius gets ordained, it's going to be SO COOL. Hope you liked the chapter - and that I managed to make things readable/follow-able, because I tripped myself up a few times writing these sequences (and next chapters, but they were sort of mixed, it was a problem).
> 
> But! Next chapter is actually flowing okay now that I've figured out which of the multitude of voices I need to hear from and in which order, so maybe an update before mid-May, wouldn't that be nice?


	8. Subtleties (and lack thereof)

He considered himself relatively used to Sunhame, and relatively hard to startle, but Holiness Lumira’s relayed message from Henrik had not left him remotely prepared for the situation he was now in charge of investigating.

Jeryl left Holiness Laskaris to give a safety briefing, the twelve men sent over from the Outer Eighth listening to the man intently, as they should. He would have to try and make time to ask the Sergeant which of the three Corporals accompanying him was the one being considered for promotion, he liked to offer his own opinions of the soldiers he worked with for their Captain’s consideration in his summary reports and that would help target his focus. He likely wouldn’t have much chance to interact with them, though; barring some strange circumstance he would likely leave Corporal Larson and Patrolman Vaust as Court eyes on this situation while he took the others to Fourth Court with whatever witnesses he gathered.

Two of the staffers mentioned reporting odd storage methods and being told it was under investigation already, and one of the priests had taken a little too long on his answers for him to believe it _hadn’t_ been a potentially successful attempt to circumvent Honored Hansa’s truth compulsion.

_Two Firecats_. There were _two Firecats_ involved in this investigation. He had never expected to catch more than a glimpse of Honored Hansa on one of his attendances of Main Temple services, and had considered himself immensely fortunate to have once, from a distance, seen the Firecat disappear in a wash of golden fire. Now he was actually having Honored Hansa assist in his investigation, and had seen that same vanishing-in-fire transport mechanism no less than four times today! If he weren’t more than a little terrified of being rude, he’d ask if he could be taken somewhere using that method just to see what it was like.

The Firecats almost made it possible to ignore the animated corpses and the miniature firestorm that the Incendiary was apparently using as backlash aversion for his own fire suppression methods, and made the involvement of what felt like half the Firestarting Order positively mundane in comparison. Here he had thought that his experience working with Firestarters – well, with Holiness Valerik – would actually make a significant difference in managing this investigation.

It really didn’t help at all.

“Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy?” he asked, the man looking up from where he was crouched next to both Firecats, evidently in the middle of an intent discussion with them and seeming far more used to dealing with Firecats than Jeryl would have expected, “Holiness Laskaris says you will be taking his place in assisting with the investigation.”

“Yes,” the soldier agreed, rising to his feet and looking so very strange to Jeryl’s eyes, even used to the Sunsguard as he was. Perhaps especially used to the Sunsguard as he was; it made the brilliant crimson and gold sash far more jarring, since he truly knew how very out of place it was. The Sun in Glory hanging around the man’s neck was unusual, but did not feel as odd. He had declared an Investigator or two in his stead over the years, after all.

“I will not be much help with fire mitigation,” the man continued wryly, “And given the apparent effort to target Firestarters in this plot, it is preferred _someone_ in the Order is involved in the investigation.”

“I quite agree,” Jeryl said, knowing very well that neither of them were mentioning the deliberate political calculus that left an Enforcer to take that slot rather than one of the junior priests in the Order. Enforcers were not priests, after all, which would let some forget the fact that an Enforcer’s authority was highly dependent on the Firestarter they declared for. The fact this man was Enforcer for the Incendiary left Jeryl with practically no authority over the man beyond what Bellamy himself allowed.

That being said, Jeryl saw no issue with it. The man freely spoke to Firecats, and both Honored Hansa and the other Firecat had deigned to let him touch them during the course of their conversation.

“You were not here when I arrived, it was mentioned that Honored Kari had taken you to find Holiness Valerik – which I suppose means you are the Honored Kari they mentioned?” he said, directing his question to the Cat in question and not quite able to stop his flinch when the Cat spoke directly to him.

_:I am. If it is agreeable to you, Justicar, I will be remaining with you for the required Tell Me True workings, while Hansa assists one of my Firestarters in removing a trapped bracelet from a witness’ wrist.:_

“Another one?” Jeryl asked, narrowing his eyes before realizing that he should answer the question first and saying, “Ah, my apologies. That is perfectly agreeable to me, Honored Kari, Honored Hansa.”

Focusing back on the Enforcer rather than watch Hansa depart in fire, he returned to his initial question, “Another bracelet? Distinct from the one Holiness Laskaris said he handed back to you?”

“Yes,” the man confirmed, pulling said bracelet, wrapped in silk, out of his pocket and carefully unwrapping it without touching the beads with bare skin. “Another Firestarter, Valerik, was knocked out and had this placed on him. He’s recovering from magical backlash after the bracelet was removed and whatever resistance he was putting up to the spells had nothing to counterbalance, suffered a severe seizure in addition to whatever injuries knocked him out in the first place. After Laskaris confirmed he didn’t have spell tethers attached directly to him we sent him back to the District to recover.”

“I am familiar with Holiness Valerik. And that bracelet – that bears a very strong resemblance to the one I usually see him wear,” Jeryl said, frowning as he slipped into mage-sight and feeling it switch to a grimace, “Though not at _all_ in terms of spellwork. That is a very harsh gaes, he was conscious at some point before its removal?”

“Yes, though acting as though badly concussed, suffering severe headaches and losing swaths of time,” the Enforcer reported, sounding concerned, “Can you tell what it’s supposed to do?”

“Only in general scope, but it was definitely designed to keep someone under for a long time. I’ve only seen this sort of working in – well. I’ve seen it to make some medical procedures easier, and I’ve seen it to secure powerful mages when they are taken prisoner rather than immediately executed. If he was conscious before its removal, that explains why the backlash was so severe,” Jeryl explained, humming thoughtfully as he tried to get a better feel for the other spell layered on it, “And some form of anti-scrying ward, though it seems to be one that ties into another net… ah. It is tied into the wards _here_, interesting. Definite sign someone in the complex was involved in making this.”

“Are anti-scrying wards on temple grounds typical?” the Enforcer asked, rewrapping the bracelet.

“Not particularly, but they are not particularly frowned upon either,” Jeryl replied absently, waving one of his Patrolmen over and ordering him to shake the local priests down for the ward diagrams or at the very least a ward list.

Deactivating his mage-sight while the man set out on his mission, he blinked a few times to let his vision resettle before refocusing on the Enforcer and prompting, “Very well, it seems the whole event will be relevant. In fact – yourself and His Incandescence – ”

He paused at the chuckle that title prompted, the Enforcer looking deeply amused as he said, “He prefers Incendiary. Well, he prefers Holiness Dinesh, but of the assorted titles for the head of the Firestarting Order, he prefers Incendiary.”

“Ah. Very well then. Yourself and the Incendiary were the ones to discover this?”

“Not quite,” the Enforcer corrected him, indicating Honored Kari as he said, “Two of our Order’s students were here, one of them detected that there were dangerous quantities of pistachios and other volatiles in the lower levels, and called on Kari to retrieve the two of us for confirmation. We then coordinated with the two of them and one of the staff, a young woman named Sable, to get the children out without alerting any observers that the plot had been discovered.”

“And how far in advance was this visit by two of your Order’s students planned?” Jeryl asked sharply, realizing rather belatedly that Bellamy’s reference to this plot targeting Firestarters did not necessarily only refer to a potential frame job on Valerik.

“Quite,” the man replied grimly, “And the fact that Rodri can detect flammables to this degree is – rather rare, and only recently trained up. His presence was also not as guaranteed, but Etrius grew up here and every year for the past four years he’s visited three days before Midwinter’s Vigil.”

“Noted,” Jeryl said, grimacing. Targeting children was despicable, of course, but the fact that Firestarters had unique abilities making them essential to safely dismantling this trap put the fact that one of their students had been a likely target of this attack in a bit of a different light. Someone attempting to frame Valerik for this would cause considerable tension on its own, if one of the students had been injured in a plot they practically had to be called in to dismantle…

It would make presenting a reasonable and unified front far more difficult to manage.

“And this was the point where the other Firestarters were sent out on their missions?” Jeryl asked, nodding towards the witness Bellamy had brought with him, “And where does this one come in?”

“He was coerced into assisting in snatching Valerik, waited for an opportune moment to disable the others involved and get him out with the intent of reporting to the Outer Eighth Sector,” Bellamy said, Jeryl immediately growing far more interested in what exactly this prime witness had to say.

“Coerced – that would be the bracelet Honored Hansa is helping disable?”

“It’s placed on his sister, they were left with the impression that it would kill her if removed by anyone but Bertrand, or if Bertrand believed he had been betrayed. Sounded to me like it was – well, a long standing relationship, Bertrand finding leverage over him and forcing him to obey. The siblings apparently agreed enough was enough and had planned to pass information to Jaina in guise of Jana via the sister’s market stall, with Garth Nolans intending to use Val’s presence as a victim to get his own information listened to,” the Enforcer summarized, stepping aside a bit and tilting his head in this Garth Nolans’ direction, saying “He’s more than willing, even eager, to testify under a Tell Me True.”

“Excellent,” Jeryl said, eyes narrowing, “Kindly introduce me, Lieutenant-Enforcer.”

“Certainly, Your Holiness.”

=pagebreak=

So far this Justicar seemed solid, and seemed to be making the same sorts of connections Anur was as far as piecing this plot together went. Hopefully his brief introduction of the whole Garth Nolans situation would ensure the man was properly heard out, given his professed difficulties in getting anyone to listen to him. Anur would rather not have to insist on points in this investigation, but he would if he had to. It was the whole reason he was so intent on tagging along.

Hopefully the fact that Valerik evidently knew this Justicar wouldn’t come back to bite them…

“Your Holiness, this is Garth Nolans, the man who found Valerik. Nolans, His Holiness Jeryl, Justicar of the First Order, assigned to Fourth Court," Anur said, unsurprised when Nolans rose to his feet and offered a short bow to the Justicar before settling into a rough approximation of attention - very _deliberately _off from the usual Sunsguard version of attention, Anur suspected. Before either of them could speak though, he added for Nolans' benefit, "Nolans, Honored Hansa just left to help in removing that bracelet from your sister, we should have more information soon."

“My thanks, Lieutenant-Enforcer,” the man said quietly, inclining his head again before focusing on the Justicar and saying, “You have questions, Holiness?”

“If you could summarize your involvement in finding Holiness Valerik, to start with,” Jeryl said, glancing at Kari as he asked, “Honored Kari, if you would place Garth Nolans under a truth compulsion?”

The Justicar focused on Garth again, explaining, “My understanding of the spell is that you will be physically unable to speak a falsehood, and redirection will not work.”

“Not smoothly, at least,” Anur agreed, remembering those early trials with Kir and some of the more creative dodging strategies they’d come up with later. At least they’d been able to confirm with Kari that the Tell Me True working reacted to the same sort of emotional impressions as the _vrondi _based Truth Spell.

_:I can handle this working, Anur,: _Kari said, tail flicking as he leapt up onto the bench Nolans had left, sitting down and staring intently at the man in question.

“I will need to get details on that from you, I suspect there was some dodging in my earlier questionings,” the Justicar said, glancing back to Kari and waiting for the Cat’s firm nod before turning to Nolans and saying, “Proceed, please.”

“Two days ago I was supposed to meet an ally to exchange information, but Bertrand was there instead. Bertrand being the black-robe priest assigned here as second in command,” Nolans explained, relief flickering across his face when no one interrupted and he continued smoothly, “He – essentially he taunted me for thinking I could get away with attempting to ruin him or at least bring him under scrutiny, and implied he was responsible for the fact my sister’s business has been suffering difficulties in the past few moons. We had been in the middle of gathering enough evidence and witnesses to get him investigated last Midwinter, and in the chaos of – well. In the chaos, we slipped up and he was able to find enough leverage to render our attempts useless. I hadn’t heard from him since that, though looking back I suspect he had been planning to bring me back under his control for a few moons.

“I refused to listen, two days ago, and left. We had taken precautions, but they weren’t enough. Night before last, he showed up at our door and I had to let him in, he’s a mage and there were innocent people around. He repeated some of the taunting, drawing my sister into it as well – we live together – and ordered me to assist some of his other bully boys in knocking out and abducting Val… Holiness Valerik, I mean, the following night. So last night. He – burned my sister’s hands, during that discussion, and when he said he would heal them – which we didn’t dare refuse, sirs – he put a bracelet on her and said that if anyone but him tried to remove it she wouldn’t have hands to heal any longer. I’ve seen him use similar bracelets to do terrible things to people, aside from them trying to remove it, and Maude knew those stories. After I agreed to do what he said, he left, and – we argued for a long while, sirs, but finally agreed we had little choice, so wrote out everything we knew so Maude could slip it into Jana’s order – ah. Jana being Val’s sister – wait.”

Nolans paused, glancing Kari’s way and frowning, before looking to Anur and asking, “How is it I can say that when I know that Val and Jana are actually – well. Not Val and Jana?”

“It’s not that they’re _not_ Val and Jana, it’s that Val and Jana aren’t the entirety of who they are. If Valerik were here and under the compulsion, depending on who he was speaking to he would be able to claim his name was Val or Valerik,” Anur explained, “Likewise with Jana. You can answer a question of who are you with your name, your job, your relationship to someone else – none of those things are false in and of themselves, so you can say it as truth. You know Val and Jana as Val and Jana, and when you’re speaking this narrative you are viewing them through that lens. I suspect when we get to the point of the summary where Kari and I show up, or you at least start suspecting Val’s actual profession, you will find you have to switch to speaking of him as Valerik, because that aspect of his identity is what’s at the core of your perspective on him at that time.”

Seeing the startled glances he was getting for that explanation, he shrugged and admitted, “Kir and I have spent a lot of time figuring out the limitations of this sort of truth compulsion.”

_:This sort of truth compulsion, yes, because there is such a variety,: _Aelius said dryly.

_:Well I have to use those skills we developed somehow!:_

“That – sounds very interesting,” Jeryl admitted, turning back to Nolans and saying, “Also, I’m rather interested to see if his estimate on when you will feel compelled to refer to Val as Valerik is accurate. Regardless, I will be asking more detailed questions once this is over and we can determine if there are any other ambiguities the truth compulsion is not catching.”

“Of course, sir,” Nolans agreed, continuing where he left off, “At the time, we did not know why Val in particular was chosen as a target, though now I have my suspicions. We decided that as Val was known to the Outer Eighth Sector Station as a friendly I would be able to use getting him free as leverage to have myself heard. I have attempted reporting crimes and other intelligence to them and been turned aside due to – well. Due to my reputation, from working under Darius Vars and through him, Bertrand.”

“I am familiar with the name Darius Vars,” Jeryl said, scowling, “I was quite annoyed when he was discharged before the official policies came down, and worst luck none of the appeals brought new information I could pursue him with.”

“Appeals, sir?” Nolans asked.

“Yes,” the Justicar said, giving the man a puzzled look, “Part of the procedures issued last spring – anyone issued a discharge within a year of Her Eminence’s Ascent has the right to appeal the decision and present their case before a _troika_ consisting of one Justicar, one temple priest from a community not including the man in question, and one of the regional commanders.”

“Within a year,” Nolans repeated flatly.

Anur swore under his breath, saying, “Someone told you you had no right to an appeal.”

“I filed paperwork for an appeal and was informed that as I was discharged before the official policies were handed down, I had no right to one. I never heard differently,” Nolans agreed, looking helplessly furious, “Though I suspect others were told I never bothered filing, thereby confirming my guilt in their minds. Why would he _do _that?”

“I accept your request for an appeal,” Jeryl said, sounding far more pleased than the topic warranted, but given the fact he’d apparently been trying to pin something on this Darius Vars character for some time, Anur couldn’t blame him. “And will be sure to arrange it _promptly_. Before we return to the current issue, however, who denied your appeal?”

“Former Captain of the Outer Eighth Sector Station, Captain Pars,” Nolans replied promptly, hesitating before admitting, “He has grandchildren, sirs. They would have been easy targets, in Darius’ mind.”

“Understood, and we will do our best to minimize collateral damage caused by pursuing this issue,” Jeryl assured him. “Now, your sister and yourself developed a plan to get the word out regarding this plot, or at least a plot to abduct Valerik. What details were you aware of regarding the full scope?”

“Little to none,” Nolans said, “All I was told was to meet up with a few others, assist them in knocking Valerik out and transporting him to an underground cell, and ensure that his own bracelet was swapped out for one Bertrand supplied. I will be frank, my presence was entirely unnecessary. I think the only reason he wanted to involve me was so he would have fresh leverage over me, especially considering the scope of what he was apparently planning.”

Anur inclined his head at Jeryl’s raised eyebrow, guessing his question and repeating Kir’s assessment, “There are enough volatiles down there to severely damage the entire complex and entirely destroy at least a few buildings.”

“Holinesses Laskaris and Colbern estimated as much,” Jeryl said grimly, “And with the targets – yes. There are likely quite a few layers to this. I will ask for details of how exactly you disabled Valerik, but for the moment – how did you get him out of wherever he was being stored?”

“I was in charge of handing off Valerik’s bracelet, but I knew where they were placing him, I knew the men involved, too, they were also once on Darius’ squad. Former Patrolman Larschen and former Senior Patrolman Norris. It wasn’t hard to convince them I wanted to catch up. We haven’t spoken since our discharge. I convinced Norris to let me take his place guarding Val’s cell with Larschen, he’s got a little girl, runs him ragged in the holiday season, it was an easy enough sell, and once he was out of reach I knocked Larschen out, tied him up to try and make him look alert, and took his key bracelet to get Val out. Plan was to bring him to the Outer Eighth Sector Station through the underlevels, use the fact I’d found him to get in the door and heard out.”

“Key bracelet?” Anur interrupted, finally registering the mixed cord and bead bracelet on Nolans’ wrist, and the man immediately pulled the bracelet off and held it out to them.

“Bertrand issued one of these to a lot of us, there are – patterns, carved into door frames or memorized, to determine what combination of beads need to be applied and in what order before turning the key is safe,” he said, grimacing, “We were supposed to memorize them but there were far too many, I was just lucky that the carved code on that door was one I knew.”

“If you could add that bracelet in with the other one, Lieutenant-Enforcer,” Jeryl said, eyeing the key bracelet and evidently looking at it with mage-sight, adding on, “Certainly seems similar style, as far as the spellwork goes. I would need to do a more detailed examination to say the same person crafted them with complete confidence.”

“Understood,” Anur said, taking the silk packet out of his pocket again and unwrapping a few layers so Nolans could place his bracelet onto it without risking touching the one that had hurt Val so badly.

“And you never made it to the Outer Eighth?” Jeryl prompted.

“No, sir, Val woke up en route and was in bad shape. Chilled, acted badly concussed, got worse as we went, evidently an extreme headache, losing swaths of time to pain and dry-heaving. Talked past each other a bit but he realized the bracelet he was wearing wasn’t his, and I told him I didn’t know what it did but I’d seen bracelets like it kill people for removing it, but he was insistent that it was killing him as it was and it needed to go. I threw it down the hall and he was able to call for Honored Kari before he started seizing. Eight seconds into the seizure Enforcer Bellamy and Honored Kari arrived,” Nolans said, indicating the pair of them. “Honored Kari kept the count while I summarized what I knew to Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy, once the seizure was over we discussed things with Valerik and Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy determined the best plan would be for the three of us to return here rather than continue to the Outer Eighth, and hopefully get Val – erik,” Nolans coughed, wincing, “That was very uncomfortable, seems your theory was right, Lieutenant-Enforcer. Get Valerik medical attention, which was what Holiness Laskaris said he was cleared to do, with no tether spells on him personally.”

“Definitely worth checking, considering the likely frame job,” Jeryl murmured, looking deep in thought.

Anur looked over at the approaching Patrolman, stepping back slightly so Jeryl noticed, the priest looking over at his guardsman and prompting, “Patrolman Henkel?”

“Sir, a Holiness Bertrand is the one in charge of the wards, his office would have the diagrams or lists and that office is secured. We tried a staffer’s master-key, which did not work, and it’s a second story office. I sent some of the cleared staff for a ladder.”

“Odds it’s secured with magic?” Anur asked.

“Very good,” Jeryl said grimly, nodding to the Patrolman and saying, “Good on the ladder, but don’t try and open anything, there’s reason to believe this man has no qualms about lethal spellwork.”

“Understood sir,” Henkel said.

“With the amount of effort this man has put into ensuring you remain under his thumb, you’re staying with us until we can get you to Fourth Court,” Jeryl informed Nolans, “I am _not _losing the chance to get testimony against Vars, much less a potential Oathbreaker.”

_:I like this one,: _Aelius decided.

_:I think I do too,: _Anur agreed.

“Yes, Your Holiness,” Nolans said, the sharp-edged smile on his face leaving little doubt that he was of a similar mind.

_:Enforcer Bellamy, the bracelet has been successfully removed from Maude Nolans. Ulrich is available to bring the bracelet directly to Justicar Jeryl and report on the process,: _Hansa said.

Anur nodded shortly and took advantage of a pause in Jeryl’s orders. Two soldiers were staying here to be his eyes on the dismantling process, it sounded like, potentially one would be securing the office they couldn’t get into, while the remaining two would be accompanying them to Fourth Court. Before he could issue orders to the final Sunsguard, the runner who had brought the men of the Outer Eighth Sector Station here in the first place, Anur spoke up.

“Bracelet’s been removed from Maude Nolans,” he said, steadying Nolans when he swayed in relief, “Hansa can bring Holiness Ulrich here with the bracelet to add to the evidence pool, and Holiness Ulrich can offer testimony on the removal process. Do you want Maude Nolans brought along as well?”

“No,” Jeryl said, “I would rather minimize the number of valuable witnesses standing in a partially dismantled death trap. Holiness Ulrich and Honored Hansa, yes, Maude Nolans I will speak with at Fourth Court at some later time – preferably today. Is there a means for communicating with her promptly going forwards?”

“So long as Jaina stays with her, yes,” Anur agreed.

“Hmm. Non-ideal. I would be much obliged if they could both go to Fourth Court, we will meet them there,” Jeryl said, Anur nodding and passing that along to Hansa, who quickly relayed _that_ group’s agreement and he only just finished telling Jeryl that when Hansa appeared with Ulrich in tow.

The elderly priest’s gaze swept the complex before he focused on them and nodded to Jeryl, saying, “Justicar. I am Ulrich, Black-robe scholar-mage of the First Order.”

_:I see they finally figured out the right title for him now that summoner wasn’t appropriate,: _Aelius commented dryly, Anur huffing a laugh in spite of himself because that had been _quite_ the debate a few moons ago when the Council had realized that one of their strongest members had no particular title to introduce himself with beyond being a Black-robe. Exorcist was, apparently, not something one could claim.

Ulrich had protested that one the strongest, actually, claiming that it wasn’t appropriate to advertise one’s sacred calling, which had diverted quite a bit of the debate into explaining that going forward the priesthood itself would be considered a sacred calling since no one unwilling would be brought in – needless to say, there had been a lot of fresh points of contention brought up in the course of the argument.

_:How exactly does one become a First Order Scholar?: _Anur asked, using the diversion to distract himself from the slightly-less-than-debilitating terror being near the exorcist was inducing. Solaris could very well have not even brought up the issue of not going anywhere near his bond with Aelius yet, he had no way of knowing. At least there were more than enough immediate threats and issues they had to deal with to distract the man, it had been moons since they’d first met and he had never shown any sign of being disturbed by whatever sense he had for other people’s souls. Odds were good that Ulrich wouldn’t act against him, particularly not now.

Logic didn’t make it any easier to keep his composure, so he resorted to humorous distractions on top of listening with half an ear as Ulrich explained the removal process he had been called in to assist. It sounded as though Jaina had managed most of it on her own, but had wanted a second set of eyes and hands to ensure safety. He approved of her caution.

_:Good question,: _Aelius mused, a similar worry and tension definitely evident in his own voice before finally offering, _:Win a citation argument with Seras?:_

_:I think that’s a little _too _stringent!:_

_:A race to find the most books off a list of extremely obscure titles?:_

_:Now that’s just unfairly biased towards the youth,: _Anur protested, managing to suppress his grin and stepping forward when Ulrich finished his summary with the explanation that Jaina was remaining with Maude to facilitate the removal of something called groundwork spells, which had transferred over before the bracelet was removed or been on her already.

“I can take that, if you prefer, Justicar,” Anur offered, pulling the silk wrapping out of his pocket again. No less than _three_ bracelets crafted by this man. Figuring out how to free everyone caught in this sort of trap was going to be a nightmare, and Anur was so very glad that the odds were against him and Kir being called in to manage it.

“There’s enough silk to keep them wrapped and separated?” Jeryl asked, accepting his nod and continuing, “Very well, my thanks, Lieutenant-Enforcer. Holiness Ulrich, would you be able to inspect Bertrand’s office for spellwork protections?”

“Certainly,” the man agreed, waiting for Anur to have the remaining silk unfolded over his palm for him to carefully deposit the bracelet he was carrying by a thin chain threaded through it. He wondered why Ulrich had chosen that mechanism rather than silk himself, but supposed there was some reason for it. He was just glad Kir had explained silk was a decent insulator against magic a while back, it gave him options.

That done, Ulrich met his gaze and raised an eyebrow, and before Anur could panic the man inclined his head towards the corner of the complex still filled with flickering sheets of flame and asked, “His Incandescence?”

“Do you _want_ him to set your hair on fire?” Anur replied before he could stop himself, but the priest simply huffed a laugh and corrected himself.

“The Incendiary, my apologies,” Ulrich said, eyes crinkling in amusement. He had heard Anur and Kir bickering more than a few times over the course of the past few moons, after all, and that threat had come up and quickly been asked after. Ulrich even wore his hair long, down to his shoulders, so he was at definite risk to said threat.

“That’s him, it’s – essentially to balance the total suppression he’s enforcing in the storerooms, it’s a very unintuitive use of his abilities,” Anur explained, slipping the wrapped bracelets back in his pocket and leaving his hands there in case they started shaking, “If you’re going to be sticking around, keep an eye on him for me. He’s repunctured his lung.”

“Excuse me _what_?” the exorcist spluttered.

“I’m not too thrilled either,” Anur grimaced, “But he is also the only reason this complex is still standing, so until the volatiles are reasonably dispersed enough for him to leave, he’s stuck here.”

“I am not telling Solaris,” Ulrich muttered, far too sympathetic for a man capable of destroying his and Aelius’ _souls_.

“Oh don’t worry,” Anur promised, “I’ve taken care of it.”

_:By which you mean I’ve taken care of it,: _Aelius said flatly.

_:But of course!:_

_:Potential problem,: _Kari inserted, evidently broadcasting by the way Jeryl cut himself off mid-order and turned to the Firecat, _:My apologies, Justicar, but we sent Firestarters to each of the charity complexes when this was uncovered, to ensure neither of the others had similar caches under them. They do not, but Holiness Seras is still at the northern complex, where Bertrand is supposed to be in that meeting. I thought to ensure someone currently there would be aware he needed to be delayed.:_

“He isn’t there, is he?” Jeryl asked rhetorically, grimacing at Kari’s nod, “Scrying it is, then. Was he there at any point?”

_:According to the actual head of this complex, a Father Obric, he was alerted to a breach in the wards halfway there and left to investigate with Obric’s full permission,: _Kari relayed.

“Hm. He’ll need to be investigated, and I’ll need testimony from the students involved in this anyway. Patrolman Segil, go to Fourth Court, retrieve one of the Second or Thirds and head to the northern complex to collect testimony from one Etrius, a – you said Rodri, Lieutenant-Enforcer? Yes, him, and a staff member named Sable. Usual underage witness procedures for all three, regardless of actual age.”

“Understood sir,” Segil said, saluting and darting off.

“He crafted the wards here,” Jeryl said, turning to Ulrich and Anur, “I’ll use that as a basis for a basic scrying feasibility working.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Anur muttered, noticing Ulrich simply nod at the declaration so he directed the comment to him.

“One can shield from scrying, and some of the scrying countermeasures can be lethal or at the very least damaging,” Ulrich explained, “One of the first thing someone specialized in scrying learns is to do assorted survey spells that, hopefully, allow one to know if attempting a proper scrying is safe.”

Anur took that in, glanced at Jeryl’s spell-crafting, and grimaced.

There was no chance at all Bertrand hadn’t employed lethal countermeasures.

=pagebreak=

His lung was definitely repunctured.

It was pointless to tell Anur about it though, because Anur already knew and also knew there was nothing to be done about it, as both of them damn well knew after Senior Lieutenant Janner and Healer Joss’ _extremely thorough_ briefing on what exactly a scarred lung meant for him going forward. That repuncturing was likely the worst of it: none of his ribs were out of place, even though they were likely fractured, the bruising was going to be _abominable_ and while he didn’t think he could even manage getting out of his coat without aid, he was not dying.

He was going to spend this entire Conclave downing willowbark tea.

Perhaps next year they could have their Conclave somewhere else? The town Lumira ministered to would likely be willing, or at least not horrified at the idea. Even Aulch might be willing, or – no, never mind, Anika’s township would be a terrible idea, even a year from now.

If the 103rd hadn’t been replaced, they could even use those barracks! Non-ideal, certainly, with the potential for returning refugees to run straight into some of the people who had been most responsible for chasing them out of the country, but it could not _possibly_ – wait. He knew better. He had been giving Anur grief over this curse for days, and would be doing so for the _rest of their lives_, so he could hardly go making the same mistake. While the 103rd had the potential to be bad, it would be much easier to mitigate, as it was smaller and had hardly anyone there. Sunhame had far too many people, and people in the habit of _plotting_ at that.

People in the habit of plotting against _his Firestarters_.

His eyes were mostly closed, he didn’t need to see for this and he was surrounded by those almost familiar sheets of shimmering flame besides. Not golden flames alone, though, which was interesting. He wouldn’t have thought finally determining their full song would lessen their likelihood of appearing when he was stressed, but apparently it put them on the same footing as the more ordinary types of fire.

Rather reassuring, actually. He had not enjoyed reacquainting himself with calling on fire he couldn’t properly control, even if by some miracle he’d managed not to harm anyone in the course of it.

A sharp pain on his next inhale, but he had to breathe through it. Breathing steadily, regularly, and not too deep; that was the key to these things. Anything irregular and he could induce involuntary spasms, anything too deep and he could send his puncture into a full collapse, anything less than steady and he would risk losing focus on his fires and he _couldn’t_.

_Quiet, _he breathed, half-imagining he could see the men moving in the storeroom by the disturbed buzz of airborne volatiles in their wake and their own internal heat as a beacon. An assembly line was the means of choice, it seemed. Two stairwells of living, breathing heat sources, and two of meat wrapped in the teeth-vibrating hum of potent, tightly bound magic. He focused on those clusters for his next set of breaths, because magic was a volatile and he’d never worked with necromancy before.

But there were no more sparks there than there were by the soldiers. There were more in those zones than there were in the yet-undisturbed reaches, but that was only natural – _Be. Still._

Eight sparks, he’d had to let one go for longer than he’d like and that curl of fire and warmth set its own wake into the dust and there were so many breathing bodies down there adding their own motion to the air and he could literally feel the muscles between his shoulderblades twisting against his definitely not-wholly-well vertebrae he had to _breathe._

The fires surrounding him breathed with him.

No sparks right now. He had stopped that swarm. Now he had to wait for the rest.

Waiting for an ambush was _exhausting_, and this was an ambush he couldn’t detect further in advance than he needed to act. It had been a long time since he’d been in this sort of situation, between his sense for flames and the sorts of opponents he ran up against, immediate responses the moment he noticed the faintest of signs hadn’t been necessary.

Rodri was going to utterly hate the training exercises that would be coming out of this situation.

_:Drink some water,: _Aelius said, voice so much more quiet than usual, so much less strident. Kir appreciated it more than he could possibly say. He had already asked Kari to not speak to him for the rest of this deconstruction, he was focused intently enough a sudden presence in his mind would startle him, and given just what he was focused so very intently on…

No. Not worth the risk. Anur was ever-present, and he could sense Aelius’ mind as a bulwark at his brother’s side. So long as they tempered their mindspeech, he could hear them without jumping.

He managed to do as Aelius suggested, but when he forgot himself and gave his back a slight twist to set the canteen down he damn near dropped it straight on the floor and definitely flared his immediate fires far higher than advisable frosted _hells_ that hurt. His breathing was far too ragged when he eased back to straight, leaning against the wall behind him and then his breath _hitched_ and _no_.

He had promised Anur that if his lungs got worse, he would leave. His lungs were not worse yet, and he could not mess that up by moving incautiously. There was nowhere near enough dispersal done for it to be safe for him to leave, even if Henrik’s ward was reestablished sometime soon – oh. Oh there was the ward.

Managing to get his breathing back under control, Kir tried to ease his grip on the situation, wanting to see if Henrik’s ward – _spark spark flare shhh quiet. Be still._

Helpful. That had been easier to still than previously. But the ward did not seem to do much in the way of preventing sparks from even starting, or at least, what it did do, it did not do enough of. There was certainly no shift in the ward’s strength or structure in response to the sparks, from what he could sense. It was very much what he would consider a dampening ward, rather than a proper suppression ward. Akin to that favored minor curse, making it difficult but not impossible to get fires to light in the target’s vicinity.

He had been meaning to ask Fabron or Lumira if they knew how to build it. It was one of the few pieces of string magic he had memorized, but he couldn’t remember if it was standard knowledge. It should be, aside from the petty vengeance opportunities it opened up it had been useful in his early experimentation phases as a safety measure.

Perhaps that string curse was based on this ward structure?

His throat was parched again; he needed to drink some more water before he started coughing. This time, however, he was _not_ going to move his back from its current, completely upright position.

It was inordinately pleasing to complete that set of motions without aggravating any of his injuries.

_:Jaina and Ulrich have removed the bracelet,: _Aelius reported, now that they had a moment, _:Maude Nolans is unharmed, but something called groundwork spells were transferred over to her before the bracelet could be removed. Jaina says she can facilitate removing those, however they are not immediately dangerous in and of themselves.:_

_:They wouldn’t be, groundwork spells refers to a class of spellwork that makes it easier to lay further enchantments on, providing a basis for later work,: _Kir replied, _:The sooner the better for that removal, of course, particularly if we haven’t found Bertrand yet. Or whoever might be behind this.:_

_:Well at the very least Bertrand needs to be questioned, and therefore found,: _Aelius said, cutting himself off when Kir hissed an exhale and extinguished four more sparks with it. That was the longest spark free interval they’d had yet; a hopeful sign. At least a – a quarter? A fair amount of volatiles had moved out but where had they – oh, thank the Sunlord someone had come up with a dispersed storage schema. They might actually manage to render things less than disastrously hazardous before his reserves flagged.

A few more breaths, a spark or two, and he could spare Aelius some attention.

_:Bracelet removed?: _he prompted.

_:Yes, and Hansa will be returning here with Ulrich and the bracelet.:_

A sudden chorus of golden fire, bringing a new humming-thrum of a human presence with it.

Ulrich and Hansa, then. At least Grevenor had left, which kept their total count of potentially lost Council members to two, and while Kir couldn’t say he knew Ulrich particularly well, much to his own detriment now that they had realized what a threat the exorcist could pose to Anur, he was more familiar with him than he was any of the other members of Solaris’ Council. The man often teamed up with Seras and Etrius in the archives and as senior-most exorcist worked with Colbern almost as much, and none of those three were what he would consider diplomatic, yet all three spoke rather well of the man.

It was unfortunate that he could no longer give similar weight to the fact that Solaris respected him enough to place him on her Council.

How long had it been?

Three sparks – another two – _four_ that was _enough_, be _still_!

_Be still. Be still._

The sun-blessed steel arrowheads in his pocket shifted tune against his senses, chiming brightly in a way that made him think of spring, nonsensically enough. He had been so looking forward to exploring that song, those golden flames, with Maltin and Rodri this afternoon. There was no way he would be capable of that sort of focus today. Even tomorrow.

His brief mourning was promptly set aside when Anur’s mind coiled into a furious tangle of desperation and rage and bitterness because of _course_ this would not go smoothly –

_:Brother?: _he prompted.

That sharp-edged rage softened slightly and Anur replied, _:Bertrand is missing from all places he might officially be, and Jeryl’s scrying feasibility spells have ruled that option out as well.:_

Kir felt his own rage surge and he gritted his teeth against the instinctive flaring that came with it, because it was a habit of _decades_ and no he could _not_ –

_:Easy, easy, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said,: _Anur said, Kir’s anger subsiding at Anur’s tone and breathing through the headache and flicker-flurry of sparks he had to squash to nothing before they had a chance to properly sing.

_:I really hate this,: _Kir admitted, voice tight with so very much.

_:I hate this too,: _Anur replied, _:I am literally _watching _as a man who was finally starting to hope he and his sister might be properly free, he might be able to truly tear down the people who were using him so badly – he’s giving up, Kir. He’s despairing, and I have to watch because I can’t fix this! We’re sitting here with all the evidence we could possibly want to bring the man into custody for questioning, with three, count them _three_ samples of wrongful spell-craft and _nothing _to show for – wait.:_

_:Anur?: _Kir and Aelius prompted in unison, feeling the distinctive hitch of a sudden thought, a sudden realization.

The flurry of thoughts that answered them was nothing so coherent as words. Flashes of golden fire and of a bone-shaking Voice and blurred sigils and Kir’s own voice, echoing back through the years, _“_…_it’s a call of Judgment, Anur. Those things are best left alone unless you are _very _certain of your righteousness and willing to stake your own life and soul on it.”_

_:I am with you, Chosen,: _Aelius said at once. Kir sent his own agreement along, and tried to tamp down his nigh-instinctive terror at the idea of Anur conducting this rite – of either of them conducting this rite, to be frank, but particularly of Anur because Anur was his _brother_. But there were few other options, none of which were what he would consider feasible, and they knew better than most that being ordained had nothing to do with being able to call on the Sunlord for judgment.

_:Kir,: _Anur said, whatever sympathy he felt for that terror near overwhelmed by sheer determination, _:If I denounce Bertrand, would Oathbreaker, Outcast and Nameless be the appropriate set?:_

_:Yes.: _Kir replied immediately, hardly needing to think,_ :Yes it would.:_

_:Excellent. In that case, I need a fire somewhat nearby that isn’t fueled solely by your mind.:_

_:Easily done,: _Kir promised, finding a piece of wood near Anur and not too close to anyone else and setting it alight with hardly a thought. Thinning the fire in front of him so he could actually see his brother took a bit more effort, effort he couldn’t truly afford. But his brother looked his way, met his gaze and smiled, so it was worth it. He couldn’t stand beside him for this rite, he couldn’t conduct this rite himself, but he could watch.

His brother was so very brave, and tilted his head towards the sun, voice ringing out like a trumpet.

“Vkandis Sunlord, Giver of Light, we ask for your judgment! I call this one Oathbreaker!”

=pagebreak=

When was the last time one of his plans had worked out to his primary, most favorable outcome? It had to have been over a year ago, obviously, but he rather felt it had been longer.

Oh yes, it was three years ago when Darius had finally demanded a favor for their years of partnership and made that favor keeping Garth Nolans as his second despite the inconveniences of the man’s moral code. Bertrand understood why, watching the man struggle to hold onto some vestige of his original morals and fail to save so very many people yet still never quite give in to despair was a rather fascinating sort of entertainment, but if there was one thing he had learned from his years deliberately spent on the outskirts of Sunhame power plays, it was that _entertainment_ always had to be the first thing sacrificed.

He cursed himself again for letting Darius become so much of an equal in their arrangement. He should have put more effort into keeping the Sunsguard Sergeant in his place, but the man was good at what he did and they’d been working together for nearly ten years, giving him more independent power not only ensured his own influence spread, it meant if things failed he could throw his hands in the air and shove a lot more of his own schemes onto Darius’ shoulders.

It had been a very long time since one of his plans had fallen through quite so spectactularly though.

_Not even _one _casualty_, he thought sourly, taking another sip of his beer.

Oh he had known something had gone wrong when he caught sight of a gaggle of familiar children in the market. He hardly ever worked with the children, they wouldn’t know him outside of his robes, but he had stepped aside and weaved his way out of the market and into the Seventh Sector on the first glimpse. There was no reason at all for the children to leave the temple, particularly with Etrius’ visit scheduled for today. The staff loved it when Etrius managed to visit, he always brought some new story or idea to entertain the hellions with so they could manage to get some additional work done without the children underfoot or take a much needed break.

Etrius would never have the thought – or the necessary funding – to take all of the children to the market. Something had happened, and he had survived this for far too long to assume it was something that didn’t involve his plot being spoiled.

So there wouldn’t be any children dead, and no Firestarting students conveniently killed or injured to distract that Order from properly watching their step. Unfortunate, but not insurmountable. Valerik would simply need to be made a dead scapegoat, rather than an alive target for a power struggle disguising itself as an investigation.

That signal had been sent, and for a moment he had thought that perhaps one of his secondary plans had pulled through. Unfortunately, just as he was thinking over how to maximize his timing, he received word from a nervous girl working in her mother’s stead that his cousin Val was missing, and Miles was ill.

He had taken the chance to lay another groundwork series on the girl in guise of shaking her hand and thanking her for carrying the message, and if she actually spent the copper he pressed to her palm he might have a chance to spread some around a bit. Otherwise he would have another layer on her or her mother, which was hardly useless.

It was the only good thing to come of that message. If Darius hadn’t killed the fool for letting Val get away, he would have to ensure an accident happened to the man’s sister-in-law. He would still have the connections to manage that, regardless of how this panned out. His traps were excellent, and he’d been laying groundwork spells on assorted targets of convenience for over a decade. Managing that sort of leverage from outside of Sunhame would be tricky, but he could make it work.

With Valerik flown the coop, there was no reason to think the situation would become more vulnerable rather than less, so he had purchased some roasted nuts and used the moment standing still to eat them to yank a tether to snapping.

When he had heard only a faint boom, rather than a deafening roar, he swore like he’d burned himself, discarded the nuts in the next alley he ducked through, and walked as quickly as he could towards his temple. He could risk at least walking past, get a feel for what sort of damage he _had _managed to do, and listen to the inevitable rumors from whatever crowd assembled at the first sign of drama.

The rumors were mostly useless, but he was able to gather that no one had been killed, no one even injured, and joined the onlookers in a brief mantra of thanks that all of the children had been out on a holiday market outing rather than somewhere they could have been injured or killed. Gritting his teeth around more curses, he’d found a convenient alehouse and ordered a pint, claiming a spot near an only slightly dirty window to nurse it and see if he could determine just how bad this was going to be.

It had taken seeing the first barrels stacked near the gates by corpses –_corpses_! What the hell kind of reinforcements were these and how had they managed to be called in? – for him to decide enough was enough, it was time to leave Sunhame. Unfortunate that none of his targets had been properly harmed, but if his allies played their cards right they could at least leverage some of the cards he’d handed them with Valerik’s potential involvement.

None of the Firestarters had even been _demoted_ aside from that female Incendiary of theirs, and within a moon of her so-called demotion it had been made very clear indeed that she held the new Incendiary’s ear and trust in everything that mattered. Unfortunate, from the perspective of wanting to see how a proper no-holds-barred internal schism would impact the Firestarting Order, because it would have _certainly_ been useful. Very fortunate from the perspective of someone listening to disgruntled mutters at how the most visible sign of the priesthood’s corruption was getting off lightly.

But now, there was at least enough evidence of Firestarter involvement in this plot for questions to be asked. There were more than enough ranking priests who would pounce on that chance.

Draining his beer, he headed out the door and hooked the right set of beads over his fingers and started running through them, like a fretful, superstitious fool who couldn’t properly meditate. No need to let any scrying catch him so easily, particularly with necromancers involved. That meant more powerful mages were likely available, and his standard personal spells wouldn’t hold up to a properly directed scrying attempt. Boosting would be necessary, if irksome to keep up constantly until he found a safe place to rest for a few marks, but properly anchoring those spells within the city limits would be foolish in the extreme, especially if any suspicion had fallen on him.

He had a cache of goods and some letters of testimony for a few names and trades. Jaggermeir first, collect some old favors and find a caravan to attach himself too. Perhaps one to Ruvan, he had studied their language – well, that and Hardornen, but everyone had heard the rumors out of that country and only a fool thought blood mages made good allies, even short term. No, Ruvan was the way to go, perhaps further south, if he didn’t find a good base in their southeastern neighbor.

But that all could wait, he decided, eyeing the way the sun was burning off the clouds. Looked like that promised storm would be delayed, which was excellent news. Leaving Sunhame in the middle of a potential snowstorm would be suspicious, but trying to get ahead of said storm in time to visit family for Midwinter, now that he’d managed to sell all his stock at the markets? Perfectly mundane.

Rubbing his chest absently, he felt his lips twitch into something more snarl than smile when sunlight reflected off a nearby window in just the right way to leave him blinking. Shaking his head, he kept heading further out. A good half-mark walk to his cache, then another half-mark to get things settled in his packs and another full mark to get to the gates. Two marks, three at the most, and he’d be well on his way.

Perhaps, if he ended up ahead of schedule, he could let a few of his bracelets activate on his way out. He hadn’t been able to properly exercise those spells more than a few times in all these years, after all, and it had been a very long time.

Shame he’d never tagged Garth Nolans with a long-term set, but the man was far too self-sacrificing for that to have been any punishment. No, he would take his next spare moment to ensure Maude Nolans died screaming. Why be subtle?

He had nothing left to lose.

_“…I have so many questions.”_

_“What are they? We can add them to my list! Also, Auntie Ki, I need more paper.”_

_“Lukas, pour me a glass of that, would you?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many angles! So many possibilities! And a Rite on top of it all!
> 
> Kind of curious to see how this Rite goes over, I was initially not going to use it at all but it kept popping up so I went with it, and soon realized it was _perfect_ for my needs, so here it is! And for the first time we have a brief bit from the prey's perspective... anyone care to take a guess as to one or two of the immediate Divinely Rendered consequences of this sort of Rite?


	9. A Hunt is Witnessed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Midsummer's Day!!!
> 
> This chapter is chapter 1 of 2 posted today!

Ulrich considered himself an old man, and when he had first realized just who the young woman striding through the archives was all those years ago he had hardly dared hope he would live long enough to see her Ascend. The fact that he had somehow become a part of her Council, that despite the horrible things he had done and turned a blind eye to over the years he was still trusted, still granted that chance to help rebuild their nation and faith, would never _not_ be something he gave daily thanks for.

The other daily thanks was for his latest student, because Karal was a treasure, and his scholarly inclinations gave Ulrich excellent bragging opportunities when Seras started waxing a little too poetic about his own apprentice. It was unfortunate the two boys had never really hit it off, Karal was a little too reliant on the quiet, utterly academic scholar image he projected and Etrius was swerving far more into the utterly unflappable intimidating stare-down school of diplomacy. They at least tolerated one another and exchanged tips on sources and citations, so he was hopeful that could be built upon one of these days. His student needed allies, after all, even if it wasn’t quite so dire as it would have been a few years ago.

Knowing Solaris was coming into power had eased his conscience so very much when he’d finally managed to properly claim the boy he’d had dreams of. With his being a Channel, Karal would have been so very useful to so very many people Ulrich would rather kill the boy than leave him in the company of, and utterly safe from any sort of witch-power based burning. Honestly, without that knowledge, he rather doubted he’d have followed the Sunlord’s will and claimed him, to his shame. Fortunately the Sunlord had seen fit to work around his weakness and grant him the knowledge that his last student would be safe from the power plays he had cut his teeth on, so Karal was properly his.

It was only fair that he throw his all into supporting the regime that meant he could have Karal.

The fact that doing so had made the last years so very fascinating was an excellent bonus, of course. Even better, now that the initial revolution was over he had been able to spend the past year properly discussing things he had been sitting on for years with other archivists and Seras in particular, the man was an excellent mind and there had been more than a few times he had suspected a precedent he wanted was recorded somewhere in those secreted away Hall Archives yet been unable to ask for fear of tipping his hand.

It had been… startling, to realize how terribly surprised the Firestarters were by Solaris’ announcement on the true nature of witch-powers. Startling, and a little shaming. He had honestly feared his friend would be dead when that emergency Conclave ended, because in those few moments he’d glimpsed the Firestarters between the announcement and their doors slamming shut, Seras had looked broken. Broken, and tired, and so very old.

He had cursed himself for a heartless fool more than a few times those days, because he had always respected Seras as a scholar, as a priest, and had almost considered him a friend, but somehow it had never occurred to him that the man would take the news he had spent his entire life burning innocent people alive badly. Would be guilt-stricken. He should have offered him some sort of warning, or encouraged Solaris to make the announcement to the Firestarters first, before making it to everyone during a main service. What they had done had been needlessly cruel.

After that, meeting the new Incendiary – and hearing from Solaris that her second meeting with the man she claimed as successor had included an entirely justified scolding for just that act – had been immensely encouraging, and being able to speak with Seras afterwards and apologize for his own part in it had left him with no doubts as to the rightness of Solaris’ choice in successor. He had feared his friend lost to him forever due to his own carelessness, but thanks to Incandescence Dinesh, he had a chance to rebuild that friendship properly, with no lies between them.

Well, aside from lies on just how many hours he had put into finding a particularly challenging reference, but that sort of boasting was properly harmless.

Meeting his Enforcer, on the other hand, had been an _experience_, not at all helped by the fact Seras had cheerfully referred to the man as a kindred spirit. He might consider Seras a friend, but that did not change the fact that Seras was a terrifyingly ruthless man who had been known to overstep the bounds of what even the old regime would consider moral. Seras might feel guilty about it, might realize what he had done was wrong, but not until after he had done it in the first place. The only thing that had kept him from true alarm when he’d met the man and sensed the spine-tingling _other_ attached to his soul was the fact he had met Holiness Dinesh first, had heard of some of his actions from Seras and Solaris and even Karchanek, though that had been more complaining about absolutely absurd excuses for badly trained horses than any useful assessment of the pair.

Well, the fact that the man had immediately spluttered over one of the least ridiculous of his titles while the Incendiary practically cried laughing had also helped.

The fact that apparently no one but exorcists, and perhaps not even all the exorcists at that, could sense that otherness, that oddity, had been a surprise. He had thought that there was more overlap in his own senses and those of mages and necromancers in particular, but some carefully worded questions of Colbern had revealed that he sensed nothing unusual, even with his oddly overactive mage-sight. Any chance to investigate had rather been brushed to the wayside these past moons, but just yesterday Solaris had asked some carefully worded questions of her own that revealed even _she _had been unable to sense any sort of otherness about Enforcer Bellamy’s soul without intense meditation, and even that she hadn’t properly attempted, only guessed that she’d be capable of feeling it if she focused.

Her warning that if he should feel anything similar he was to keep it quiet and set out orders that no exorcists were _ever _to attempt to cleanse the individual in question from that otherness had raised all sorts of questions. The moment this Midwinter was over and he had some time to spare for his own research, he was going to lock himself away with the few records the exorcists had kept for themselves and see if a close reading gave him any hints.

If he didn’t find anything, he would have to ask the Incendiary and his Enforcer directly on their next visit to Sunhame – or their extended visit in Sunhame, repunctured lungs were no joking matter and a week long ride back to their northern bandit hunting unit wouldn’t be an option for quite some time. Even if Kari brought them there directly, he rather doubted the conditions of a remote Sunsguard barracks were any more conducive to healing rest than Sunhame was. Something to bring up with Solaris so she could raise the issue with the pair after the Firestarter Conclave was concluded.

Of course, with all of this drama happening before the Conclave could even properly begin, he wouldn’t blame the pair if they bolted out of Sunhame the moment the Midwinter’s Day service concluded, to hell with Solaris’ plans for a celebratory dinner with her Council and to hell with injury recovery. If his old bones were any more capable of speedy escapes, he would be tempted himself.

Hells, with the way this tracking discussion was going, they could even run off and claim they were going to try and track this oathbreaking wretch down. The results from Jeryl’s scrying-feasibility check were less than promising, though they certainly justified all of the effort Justicars put into mastering that particular spell – if someone had tried scrying for him directly they would have suffered badly, possibly even been killed. Whoever had made those anti-scrying texts freely available to all mages of the right power level about eighty years ago was definitely someone he wanted to have very _specific_ sorts of words with.

This was the third circle of the same conversation and there were no new ideas. Ulrich managed not to wince when he spotted Maude Nolans’ brother, a definite victim of this man and one very much at risk for retribution after what he and his sister had pulled to try and win their freedom, apparently realize the same thing and practically collapse onto a bench, burying his face in his hands. The Enforcer turned to speak to him; hopefully he had some ideas on how to properly secure the siblings, they needed to be protected with as much liberty retained as possible, anything else would be unacceptable in the extreme.

If they just had some means to _find_ the man!

He watched Enforcer Bellamy turn aside, and he sidestepped a bit to let let the Enforcer pass him, likely on his way to speak to the Incendiary about whatever protective measures they might be able to implement. The only things he could think of that were actually feasible was a complete transplant and severance of their prior identity, which would not exactly be easy to manage, particularly if Bertrand had anything of theirs to anchor a scrying of his own –

“Vkandis Sunlord, Giver of Light, we ask for your judgment! I call this one Oathbreaker!”

He had been a priest of Vkandis Sunlord for well over fifty years, a summoner for nearly as long and an exorcist for longer, with his first rite conducted in the last year of his apprenticeship. He considered himself rather hard to surprise, somewhat hard to impress, and very good indeed at retaining his composure.

He had no idea what his facial expression was just now, but he highly doubted it was anything even close to composed.

Whirling around in time to see the first bracelet hit the fire, he could feel himself choke on air and didn’t feel the bruises he knew were forming on his knees. From more natural orange-yellow to a deep red, the pulse of summer-dry heat rushed over him and left an utter, complete silence in its wake. Perhaps it wasn’t quiet, Sunhame was never truly quiet, but no other sounds _mattered_ when compared to that voice, those words.

“I call this one Outcast!” rang out like a thousand bells, fire stretching and flaring into an elaborate and entirely unnatural spiral consuming the second bracelet –

“I call this one Nameless!”

The third bracelet was cast, and fire _roared_.

He should prostrate himself, he should, but he couldn’t bear the thought of looking away, feeling tears trace their way down his face because this was something the Firestarters had lost, this was something they had _all _lost, and it was _found_.

Golden fire turned to nothing but light, curling around the Enforcer and mantling his shoulders, not so much disappearing as _absorbing_ and he could no longer stare when the Light’s Shadow turned to them with eyes blazing gold.

“We confirm these calls,” a voice like summer noon and rolling thunder and light lancing across the sky filled every corner of the air and left no room for anything else, “Judgment has been made. Mortal justice remains. Honored Hansa, attend Us.”

Honored Hansa rose from his own prostration and followed in Bel – in the Voice’s wake, pace somehow unhurried yet faster than Ulrich felt it could possibly be and utterly implacable.

He could hear sounds of Sunhame again, but only just in time to hear silence spread as the Voice exited the gate to Seventh, power blazing in Their eyes. Ulrich could hear his own breathing now, though, echoing in his ears and so very harsh, but he couldn’t gather his thoughts yet, he was still too – too stunned, at what he had just seen. At the _implications_ of what he had just seen.

“Do we… follow them?” the Justicar’s Corporal asked, looking like he very much regretted the fact he felt obligated to ask.

“I don’t know that it would be useful,” Holiness Laskaris said, rising to his feet, “With Honored Hansa’s abilities, there is no guarantee we could follow on foot.”

“An excellent point,” Justicar Jeryl admitted, everyone else also carefully standing, Ulrich accepting Garth Nolans’ offer of assistance regaining his own feet. The Justicar looked at his soldiers and was visibly trying to focus, before finally saying, “The office, I think. If there is no word after I take a look at that, we’ll take the two staff and one priest I need to speak with further to Fourth Court. Holiness Ulrich, if you would not mind accompanying us, my understanding of the Firecat’s Jumping is that they need someone they are familiar with to serve as an anchor for arrival?”

“That is my understanding as well,” Ulrich agreed, “I will gladly remain.”

As if he would want to leave!

=pagebreak=

The Fourth Court’s runner hadn’t known if word had been sent to the Seventh Sector Station, and it really would only be courteous to let his fellow Captain know the temple complex straddling their districts was having problems, so Caleb had taken the excuse. After assigning two squads to Fourth Court’s errand and confirming that none of the Outer Eighth Shift Leaders had sent word they wouldn’t make this afternoon’s meeting, he had little to do, particularly now that he was only on the bare periphery of whatever the hell Val had stumbled into. Might as well take the chance to get out of the office and enjoy the sunshine before any winter storms rolled in.

The fact that he had looked down from issuing orders to Shift Leader Bron and found his hands in the middle of making a noose out of spare hobbles had more than a little to do with that decision.

He hadn’t lied when he told Holiness Dinesh that there was no true _compulsion_ to follow through on the plans he found himself dwelling on far too often, but just because he could stop once he was aware of what he was doing didn’t mean he always _was_ aware.

He winced when a cold breeze whipped down the back of his coat. At least nooses weren’t immediately lethal in and of themselves; a few days after Holiness Dinesh and the soldiers that rode with him had departed, he had nearly slit his own throat in a meeting with Captain Lenka. It was fortunate the Captain and he had been alone at the time, after the weeks of terror their unit had suffered, seeing the only surviving victim succumb after they thought they were safe would have shattered them. As it was, they had spent a few days in near-panic themselves, but no one else had shown signs and they had decided it was likely just a consequence of the witch-power assault he’d suffered.

_Talent_, he reminded himself, returning the salutes two Patrolmen offered him but not pausing to speak. They weren’t flagging him down, and he needed to run this errand quickly enough to get back to the station in time for his afternoon meeting; finding a consistent time for his Shift Leads to meet had been annoying enough, having to reschedule it this week since Midwinter’s Vigil fell on the usual day had been a nightmare to manage.

What Nacht had used was a Talent_, _not a witch-power. Nacht had lost his mind. Nacht had been _insane _and he had been _suffering_. He did not deserve his hatred.

But some days remembering that was so very hard.

He had a chance now, though. He had hope that there might actually be some end in sight, which was honestly more than he had dared hope for when they heard about Her Eminence’s Ascent and he realized that what he had thought was unquestioning evil was in fact nothing to be condemned at all.

He was a soldier, he had been on the career path of a _bandit-hunter _before his self-preservation had been so badly compromised, he knew very well the difference between having dangerous skills and being morally wrong. Applying that knowledge to strange powers he truly didn’t understand was hard, though, and it had honestly taken Holiness Dinesh’s clear horror at what he was suffering, Enforcer Bellamy’s matter of fact declaration that what had been done to him was wrong, for that knowledge to properly register. Their immediate offers to help, however they could, had been immensely relieving and more than he had hoped for in themselves. When Honored Kari arrived and said that _he_ could help, and could help _immediately…_

Marghi had known where any extra pay would be going this season, and that was straight to Temple donations and incense for his own shrine.

“Caleb!” he heard, and managed to keep his annoyance at the informality from his face when he turned in the man’s direction. Captain Nachten, whose name’s close resemblance to Nacht’s did him absolutely no favors, preferred to eschew all titles amongst those of equal rank, and as the man’s other flanking captain was Outer Sixth’s ridiculously prissy Captain Ikren, Marghi was the only one the man could exercise that preference with.

He found it unprofessional when they were on duty, much less when they were both on duty and in public, but the man was good at his job and it was a relatively harmless quirk, so he didn’t consider it worth arguing about. The fact that indulging the man made it more likely Nachten would answer questions and serve as a sounding board when he needed a colleague to talk to simply made it an annoyance more than worth putting up with. By this time next year, he might even be able to say it was no longer annoying.

The other captain had evidently been on his regular rounds, it didn’t look as if he had been making any arrests or the like himself. Exchanging salutes with the Corporal and two Patrolmen whom Nachten had been speaking with, he focused on his fellow Captain and said mildly, “Trevar. Was looking for you.”

“Figured it was something like that,” the man said agreeably, continuing on in the direction of the station, “This an office only conversation?”

“Not particularly, I don’t have much information myself,” Marghi replied, having already decided the best way to play things was to admit only to the information he had heard through formal, non-Firecat channels. “Runner from Fourth Court came in, requested two squads to the charity complex. Didn’t sound like anyone had been requested from you.”

“I’ve been on rounds the past mark, I wouldn’t know,” Nachten said, frowning, “But my second can authorize that and would have sent someone after me, I have a fairly standard route. Doubt anyone was requested from us. It was your turn, anyway.”

“I highly doubt Fourth Court keeps rigorous track of which of the two of us it calls on for Sector spanning cases,” he said dryly, hearing the bells start to ring noon.

Trevar grinned at the sound, and asked, “Lunch? There’s an excellent food stall one road in, you should have more than enough time to get back for your Shift Lead meeting.”

He’d have to get lunch before his meeting regardless, and having another person around to engage with socially would keep his mind from wandering to potentially lethal places, so he nodded and said, “Might as well.”

Following Trevar and listening to the man’s chatter about some of the more entertaining cases to come through his door recently, he spent an admittedly inordinate amount of time wondering how he could possibly justify reading Trevar in on Val and Jana’s proper names. He couldn’t, there was no reason to at all, but he desperately wanted _someone_ to know why the Val and Jana stories the men of the Outer Eighth traded were so very much more hilariously incongruous than they were already.

Hmm. It had sounded like Holiness Dinesh and Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy only recently found out about the whole Val and Jana subsidiary identities thing themselves, perhaps he could tell them the stories. Even better, if he told them the stories he had better odds of one day finding out the full story behind some of the more outlandish ones, because that kidnapping forced-labor piracy case that Val and his sister were credited with helping crack open promised to have so many more angles than the bare bones summary he had gotten from his Shift Leads, and that version had been entertaining enough in it’s own right.

He would ask Honored Kari if they had any interest in that offer.

Trevar’s story cut off and they both turned, hearing the same commotion. A man running worry-beads through his fingers was walking at speed, while an evident collision from people getting out of his way or being shoved out of his way had been the commotion to draw their attention. Trevar sighed heavily, reaching out as the man passed and saying, “Sir, you should at the very least apologize – “

City guard didn’t carry knives. He hadn’t carried knives for _years_ before his transfer.

But the utter fury in the man’s eyes made him wish for them.

“Down!” he shouted, hooking an arm around Trevar’s waist and practically throwing them both to the ground but that was a _Levin-bolt_ that had flown over their heads, he had only ever seen one once before and it didn’t matter that he and Trevar were scrambling to their feet the man was already about to send another one flying –

“We think not!” a Voice rang, the second Levin-bolt freezing midair and vanishing to nothing, a blur of cream-and-crimson fur slamming into the back of the man’s knees with a furious yowl, the mage collapsing with a strangled cry.

Marghi found himself hard pressed not to echo that sound, stumbling back a few steps on seeing just Who had intervened beyond the Cat, dropping to his knees before he even realized that he knew the face those golden eyes were blazing out from.

“Let it be known that the man once called Bertrand, formerly a priest of the Sunlord, has been declared Oathbreaker!” the Voice declared, voice carrying impossibly far, sounding so very terrifying and comforting all at the same time and so very unlike any voice that should be emerging from Enforcer Bellamy’s throat.

“That he is now Nameless and Shunned,” the Voice continued, Caleb hardly daring to breathe as that figure and passed close by, the Cat stepping aside so They could wrench the condemned man up to his knees by his collar, talking over the Nameless one’s faint whispers of denial as if they were entirely unspoken, “That the Sunlord has turned his face from him, that he will reside forever in the darkness!”

The Cat had clawed the man’s legs, Marghi could see blood starting to drip onto the cobblestones, but the Voice looked down on the bleeding man with an inhuman fury and continued implacably, “For breaking your Oaths, We strip you of your priesthood.”

The man gasped, going white and flinching as if he had been struck, though no physical blow had landed. The one once called Bertrand tried to shudder away from the next declaration, but the Voice’s grip on his collar only tightened, “For violating the sacred trust between priest and parishioner, We strip you of your Name.”

Another blow had been struck, in no way Marghi could see, but there was still one final strike, the Voice giving a terrifying smile as They spoke.

“For daring to target souls entrusted to you, We strip you of your Talents.”

A hair-raising shriek cut off abruptly, the man’s horror-filled expression switching to flat and empty, the weighty _presence _fading away and the Enforcer’s white knuckled grip on the man’s collar eased. There was nothing of mercy in the gesture though, Bellamy’s other hand yanking his head back by the hair and a now utterly human rage in his eyes as he examined the Oathbreaker’s nearly slack features.

“Surprised you’re not dead,” he said, voice low, “But I suppose that would risk your coconspirators escaping, and that would be a true shame.”

When Bellamy released the man’s hair, the Oathbreaker’s head slumped forward – not quite the total limpness of unconsciousness, but damn close. Bellamy entirely ignored him, gaze sweeping the street instead and the Enforcer visibly hesitated before raising his voice again, saying to the kneeling crowd, “Rise, please. We are simply doing our duty.”

Marghi slowly levered himself to his feet and was rather proud of himself for not flinching when the Lieutenant-Enforcer looked at him, eyes still flecked with gold, and asked, “Captain, do you have a set of hobbles I could borrow?”

“Ah – yes,” he said, quickly unhooking said hobbles from his belt and passing them over so Bellamy could tie the Nameless One’s arms behind his back in a position he had been trained to use in the banditry units, and then informed the City Guard only used it on particularly violent offenders due to the excessive strain it could put on the captive’s joints.

Somehow, he doubted that Bellamy would have used any other method even if he had known them. He stepped forward and helped the Enforcer lever the man to his feet, worried that the Oathbreaker’s catatonic state would make hauling him around difficult for one man to manage, but to his surprise, once standing the man swayed a bit but didn’t collapse.

“Good to see you again, mostly because it confirms we’re definitely still in Sunhame,” Bellamy commented, a wry smile on his face that was horrifyingly unnerving because his eyes were _still swirled with gold _yet here he was, inviting Caleb to share in some sort of joke.

“That was – in doubt?” he managed, glancing down at the Firecat just long enough to confirm that this was not Honored Kari under a different name for some reason, this was in fact the second Firecat he had seen today.

His morning had started so _normally_.

“Last time Kir and I did this, we had our horses nearby, ended up riding for… two days straight, I think? Full gallop the whole time, day and night,” Bellamy said, huffing a laugh, “Lucky we caught up to that one in a town, we’d have been wandering to try and find out where the heck we were otherwise. This is Outer Eighth, then?”

“No, Outer Seventh,” Marghi corrected, knowing his voice sounded a little strangled but who could blame him because the Enforcer had done this _before_? “I came here to make sure my colleague knew the charity ward was having an investigation, in case there was any sort of overflow.”

“How convenient,” Bellamy mused – _was_ this still just Bellamy? Were those faint traces of gold just lingering after effects of the Voice or was the Voice still _there_?

Gold-flecked hazel flicked towards Trevar and Marghi hastily turned so he could offer proper introductions, saying, “Lieutenant Anur Bellamy, Enforcer for His Holiness Kir Dinesh, my colleague, Captain Trevar Nachten of the Outer Seventh Sector Station.”

“Pleasure, Captain,” Bellamy said, inclining his head and talking right past the awkward silence that Caleb knew he and Trevar were both using to panic about who exactly was supposed to salute first, if anyone, because the an Enforcer could act as an extension of their priest and if that was the case he of course wouldn’t salute first if at all but how could they tell and besides even that the Enforcer’s eyes _still had gold_. “As you have undoubtedly realized, the charity temple situation is _complicated_. The Oathbreaker has been confirmed to have used magic against civilians to bind them to his will along with more mundane extortion and threats, so you will undoubtedly be hearing from Justicar Jeryl of…”

The Enforcer trailed off, gaze going distant and the golden flecks gleaming and spreading across the entirety of his irises but before Caleb could properly register that and go to his knees Trevar was grabbing his arm and – temporarily covered in a wash of golden light that pulsed once before vanishing?

“Kir just say _thank you_, Ari’s sake, you are definitely still under strain even if your lung isn’t punctured anymore,” the Enforcer muttered under his breath, definitely not speaking to either of them even as his now entirely gold-free gaze swept past them to the heavens so he could say a quick and mostly unintelligible prayer of thanks.

“What was that?” Caleb asked warily, Trevar practically wheezing next to him, not that he could blame the man, and at least two of the bystanders from the collision that had drawn their attention in the first place had been encased in a similar flare of gold.

“That was my brother asking for help,” Bellamy murmured, a fond smile Caleb didn’t understand at all on his face before it vanished to something more professional, the man speaking more clearly now – and definitely deliberately projecting so the bystanders could also hear him.

“The Oathbreaker, as I said, is confirmed to have used magic to bind others to his will, along with using malicious spell craft to further his own ends in other ways. What you just experienced, Captain Nachten, was a removal of the groundwork spells he had laid upon you. Groundwork spells are – they do nothing to you, in and of themselves. They make it easier for later spells to catch hold.”

“How long had I had that on me?” Trevar asked, voice shaky but at least he was breathing normally again.

“With only one pulse? I suspect it was very recent, even perhaps in the last few moments of his freedom,” the Enforcer said, exchanging a long glance with Honored Hansa, “The more spells that were anchored, the more of those pulses of light, I suppose?”

_:Groundwork spells can be layered, and often have a self-propagating nature to build additional layers as time goes on,: _Honored Hansa broadcast, Caleb managing not to flinch too dramatically; Trevar more than made up for him, _:So multiple pulses may indicate multiple groundwork layers from one original spell, rather than multiple spells.:_

“The victim might have reason to know or suspect what spells were cast on them, or might be utterly unknowing they were even under some form of spellcraft,” Bellamy added, giving Trevar a sympathetic glance that Caleb rather doubted his fellow Captain was coherent enough to appreciate.

“As I was starting to say before – people will likely come forward now, when they couldn’t before. If you could both keep an ear out for any cases or reports regarding the one once called Bertrand, former priest and formerly second in command of the southern charity complex, send those along to Justicar Jeryl, First Order at Fourth Court. He’ll undoubtedly send formal instructions to that effect later, but as a heads up. Do you two need anything else from myself or Honored Hansa before we get this one back to the Justicar for questioning?”

Caleb exchanged a quick glance with Trevar, rather unsurprised to see his colleague was still completely speechless, and shook his own head, saying, “No, Lieutenant-Enforcer. And – regarding that later meeting, that can be shifted to whenever is convenient for Honored Kari.”

The Enforcer’s eyes narrowed before he started searching through his own pockets with his free hand, his other hand still holding the Nameless One’s arm. “Ha! Knew I still had a few,” Enforcer Bellamy muttered, pulling some small piece of metal out of a pocket and offering it to him.

Marghi couldn’t refuse, but he definitely stared at the dulled arrowhead gleaming in his palm with no little confusion. He had been in the Sunsguard for years, seen all _sorts_ of weapons-grade metal, and he’d never seen metal with this sort of sheen.

“Realized after we spoke last that this might help. Hopefully, Kari can still meet with you, but in case he can’t for some reason – because you’re right, this might end up being an all day affair – that arrowhead might help. It’s sun-blessed steel.”

It was a good thing the arrowhead was dull, he would have cut his hand to ribbons when he clenched his fist around the metal, feeling his breath hitch and eyes widen in utter disbelief because – because _what_?

“We don’t – really know much about what Sun-blessed steel is capable of,” Bellamy admitted, voice rueful with an unspoken story, “But it can’t _hurt_, in this case. Though do me a favor, if you hear any sort of tune coming from it, don’t hum along. Regardless of how this day pans out, you will hear from Kari this evening.”

It was his turn to lose his voice, throat thick with gratitude and wonder and the knowledge that if he spoke he’d be demanding with increasing hysteria _what the fuck was happening_ and this man had manifested the _Voice_ and there was a _Firecat_ he couldn’t be _that_ undignified right now - !

“Thank you, Lieutenant-Enforcer, Honored Firecat,” Trevar spoke up, voice a little strangled but at least he had found it, “Good luck with your investigation.”

“Our thanks, Captains,” Bellamy said, either not noticing or not commenting on their joint twitch at the plural pronoun, instead stepping back with the Nameless One in tow and saying, “Honored Hansa?”

The Cat nodded and settled into a seat at Bellamy’s feet, tail curling around his paws before golden-orange fire whirled around them all and left nothing but an echoing silence in their wake.

“Caleb, for the love of all that is holy please tell me you have a flask in that coat,” Trevar said.

He handed the man his flask.

_“So being a mage counts as being Talented, interesting…”_

_“Devin, your eye for detail astounds me, it really does.”_

_“I’m just sad we didn’t hear about Sun-blessed steel when Uncle Kir was visiting, I really want to see a piece.”_

_“…I have some.”_

_“And you never _said_?!”_


	10. A Net is Burned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Midsummer!!!!
> 
> This is chapter 2 of 2 posted today! If you haven't read a piece from Ulrich's perspective, go back to the previous chapter!

When Anur had spoken of his experience of the Hunting Rite they’d called down on the one once called Eshkal, Kir had been intrigued by the deliberate invitation Anur had been issued to join in the Hunt, and had honestly assumed that the invitation and Anur’s acceptance of said invitation was the reason behind the joint Voice manifestation. The fact that Aelius had been caught up in the manifestation’s wake had also made sense, especially now that he had independent confirmation that the Herald-Companion bond was anchored in the pair’s souls.

The fact that he could _feel_ the Voice’s presence against his mind where his brother should have been, where his brother still _was, _was terrifying and gave an entirely new reason for why a joint manifestation might be worth hoping for. Aelius’ presence was threaded with the same, the Companion was not speaking, and he could only hope that whatever was happening on Aelius’ end was either blatantly Sunlord-adjacent or subtle enough no one would notice something was going on.

He could feel some of what was happening, echoes of the utter clarity of purpose and focus and intent, and it was all he could do to not try and build shields between his brother’s mind and his own when he _couldn’t_, he hadn’t even been able to _try_ to separate their minds when Anur had finally taught him the proper technique for mental shielding and he had been reasonably well-rested by the time that had come about, if he were to try such a thing now –

It would be pointless anyway. You couldn’t shield yourself from the _Voice_.

Kari carefully stretched out across his legs and Kir buried his fingers in the Cat’s fur, because even keeping his hands clenched in white-knuckled fists hadn’t been enough to hide their shaking, and the people here were nervous enough. They could likely only catch occasional glimpses of him, between their own focus being necessarily elsewhere and his use of irregular curtains of fire to try and bleed off some of the stress of the situation, but if one of them glanced this way and found the current anchor to the safety of this operation so obviously stressed –

Well. Anur had borrowed enough trouble for them already. No need to borrow any more.

His brother _wasn’t there_ this was _awful_.

A set of sparks almost caught him off guard, but he managed to breathe through the rush of panic and worry and stars he just wanted to burn something but _not now_ and it was quiet. It was so, very quiet. His brother was missing.

He still couldn’t hear anything, but he could feel Kari’s whole body vibrating with his purrs, which was almost as soothing. His brother was not missing, his brother was fine. Anur was _fine_.

His vision flickered and he briefly saw a man with webs and nets and cruelty practically dripping from him, and he knew that the one he was seeing was once named Bertrand.

The one once called Bertrand had been caught, he knew at once. Would be brought low and not allowed to escape. He would answer for his crimes. But with a moment to think, with sparks currently absent, his own flames a quiet rumble, the Voice’s presence focused like a lance of light on someone _not him_, he could realize the problem.

One of the bracelets Anur had burned had been unsafe to remove by normal means. That sort of spellwork would be unchanged by a declaration of Namelessness, but how many knew that? How many once-victims might hear of the Nameless One’s arrest, of his sentencing, and think themselves safe? Might think those traps disabled and harmless?

The number, he suspected, was non-zero.

The idea of the Oathbreaking wretch bringing even one more innocent down with him was unbearable, was so utterly wrong, but what could he do? The man had clearly been skilled at warding, warding against mage-sight was tedious but not _hard_, and he had been doing this for years, if not decades. They would not be able to find everyone he had trapped under his webs, certainly not before a tragedy occurred.

The Voice was _right there_.

One of these days, he would have to sit down and write Father Gerichen a letter. He wouldn’t be able to properly explain, not until after Midsummer, but he certainly owed that man thanks. For now, though, he breathed, gave himself one moment to determinedly squash out as many potentials for sparks as possible, to acknowledge his terror as something he could not let guide his actions, and asked.

_Vkandis Sunlord, Giver of Light, innocents have been caught in a trap I cannot free them all from. I cannot even begin to imagine _how_ we mortals could free all of them. Please._

=pagebreak=

Technically speaking, removing Maude Nolans’ bracelet was straightforward. All it had actually taken was a gradual insulation process to break enough of the spell-hooks anchoring it to the groundwork spells that had either been the first things to transfer over from the bracelet or had been in place before the bracelet. Carefully wrapping Maude’s wrist in layers of silk, keeping the silk between her skin and the bracelet, had done the trick – the difficulty had lain in ensuring Jaina didn’t touch the bracelet with her own skin, and that the layering actually _happened_ instead of wrinkling or slipping out of place, and that had been what she called for extra help for. It was really for extra hands.

Having an extra set of mage-trained eyes on the problem to make sure she wasn’t making any critical mistakes or missing anything in her interpretation was a bonus she had no reason to avoid asking for, and there were more than enough decent mages in Sunhame for her request to be reasonable. The fact that Holiness Ulrich was familiar enough with Honored Hansa to have been briefed on the basic situation already and be brought here directly without being distracted by a Firecat’s presence made him the perfect candidate, so far as she was concerned.

The lack of technical skills necessary aside, she was still taking a few moments to breathe after the bracelet’s removal and enjoy the tea they’d purchased as a justification for taking over this room.

“I will deal with the groundwork spells, Mistress Nolans, I simply need a moment,” Jaina said, sitting back in her chair and bringing her teacup with her. This merchant house sold some truly fantastic blends for reasonable prices, which was the only reason she’d been here often enough to find out that they also rented out small rooms for groups to drink some of said teas, served in dishes made a few doors down and with pastries made by a decent enough Inner Eighth baker.

“Of course, Your Holiness,” Maude said, the Outer Eighth baker doing much the same, though she stayed close enough to the small table to take a few bites of her pastry of choice.

“I like your pastries better,” Jaina admitted, forgetting herself for a moment, “But their teas are fantastic… Mistress Nolans.”

The baker took a sip of her own tea before giving a shaky sigh and saying quietly, “You can call me Maude, Your Holiness.”

“And you can call me Jana,” she replied, hesitating before having to laugh, shaking her head, “As many times as we’ve complained about our mutual idiot brothers, I rather think we can forget formality, at least when I’m not in uniform? Only if you’re comfortable, of course.”

“If anything I’ll get _too _comfortable and entirely forget you’re a priestess,” Maude admitted, smiling wryly, “I had plenty of theories about the things we never talked about, but _priestess_ was never one of them. You had a family.”

“The Kin of Vkandis mantra isn’t usually taken so literally, true,” Jaina agreed, remembering her first few years as Incendiary with a grimace, “Even Kin of Ari was less than literal, until relatively recent years.”

“Kin of Ari?” Maude repeated, sounding puzzled, and Jaina realized that phrasing was likely unknown in the laity. The story of Ari was very rarely told outside their Order, nowadays.

“A formal phrase for the Firestarters, Ari was our founder,” Jaina explained, breaking off a piece of her scone, “Maude, I plan to continue wandering Sunhame as Jana for – well, for as long as I can. Certainly for as long as Valerik does. I would consider it an immense favor if you would continue calling me Jana and treating me no differently.”

“I owe you my life and more,” Maude told her, sounding bemused, “There is no favor to be owed, Jana. I will tell Garth much the same, though I suspect he will be on the same page as me.”

“Likely,” Jaina agreed, drinking the last of her tea and sighing slightly. She would definitely be buying a packet of that blend for herself this season.

“Right,” she said briskly, setting her cup aside, “Groundwork spells, as I said, make it easier for other spells to be laid down on top of them – the bracelet’s spells latched onto you very easily, because they had those groundwork spells to serve as either a bridge or an anchor, I have no way of knowing whether or not these groundwork spells were on you from the beginning or if they simply transferred over from the bracelet first.”

“I’d guess long term,” Maude admitted quietly, “My brother – he’s been extorted before, with my life as leverage.”

“I wish I’d known,” Jaina replied, feeling utterly furious with herself for little reason, but if she had just _once_ looked at Maude with mage-sight, she might have caught something sooner, might have seen these groundwork spells and been able to remove them. Been able to track down the person who put them on her and _end them_, because there were _no_ innocent reasons to lay those spells on a lay-person.

“I would have had to have been exceptionally careless, and that I can’t wish for, but I do wish you’d somehow known earlier too,” Maude said, smiling wryly, “A Firestarter would have actually been able to do something.”

“Depending on his political allies, it would have had to be delayed and quiet, but I would have ensured _he_ died, at the very least,” Jaina said, grimacing, “As complicated as this net sounds, we’d have been better served by an investigation, but that might not have happened. At least now it can happen, and we can get names from him.”

“If he’s caught,” Maude pointed out, hesitating before asking, “Will it take long, to get these spells off?”

“A mark, at most,” Jaina assured her, pulling her chair over so they were facing one another and clasping Maude’s hands in her own, “I have quite a bit of practice with these.”

She had also raised shields in this room to block external spells from reaching them without her consent, and had yet to take them down, but better to remove the groundwork spells quickly. Besides, they had to head to Fourth Court, and the sooner the better; having the neighboring merchant’s daughter manning Maude’s booth would work, but it’d be better if Maude was there in person, especially to break things down at the end of the market.

Eyes mostly closing, she bowed her head and focused on the misty layers wrapping themselves around Maude’s mage-sight visible form, obscuring her own natural networks and providing so many little gaps and corners and anchor points in their weavings for spells of all sorts.

These spells were hard to see, hard to detect, especially if the person they were cast on was a mage and had any sort of spellwork of their own in place. In that respect, the Oathbreaker’s likely use of these spells on primarily lay-people would be useful, because she wouldn’t have to spend too much time explaining how to spot the spells to others capable of mage-sight before turning them lose to survey as much of the populace as possible.

She highly doubted they’d find them all. Not before something awful happened, and that was just with the man’s groundwork spells strewn about like seeds for any of his allies to take advantage of. The Oathbreaker had undoubtedly bound so very many wrists with bracelets himself, and if even one person heard about his arrest and thought that meant the bracelets were safe to remove without precautions…

She could save Maude. She _would _save Maude. She would save as many people as she possibly could, and she would hate herself for every person she didn’t reach in time. Sunlord, let that number be few.

Carefully exhaling, she sent out her own magic as if it were, of course, fire, devouring the first layer of the spell net, and then running it over the same layer again to ensure no faint threads or quietly reinforced patches were left behind to spread again. Pause, let things settle, watch the weave for any shifting, for any signs of recovery – ah, there was a patch. Definitely something that had been long term, for the layers to be this resilient individually. Perhaps another two washes of fire before she could go to the next layer.

She suspected this was a four layer weaving. This was probably going to take that full mark.

She gasped, hearing Maude echo her, sparks of golden fire appearing at her fingertips and suddenly a swarm of sparks formed, spiraling up Maude’s arms and becoming one rippling wave of golden light-and-warmth-and-cleansing from head to toe that pulsed once-twice-thrice and faded to nothing, faded to sunlight, streaming through the window.

Maude’s hands in hers were shaking, and every trace of those groundwork spells was gone.

“I heard – I heard a voice,” Maude said, voice trembling, “Are the spells – are they gone?”

“They are,” Jaina confirmed, letting her hold on her own mage-sight fade and hearing her own voice shake even on just those two words.

“He can never hurt me again,” Maude said, voice filled with a wonder that was heartbreaking to hear, “He can never hurt _anyone_ again.”

“This happened to others, then? Not just your spells were removed?” Jaina asked, needing to hear it even if she felt she already knew the answer, because Maude would have been freed, would have been safe. There was no true _need_ for a miraculous dismantling of the groundwork spells that Jaina was in the middle of removing. But if the same sort of thing had happened to every person Bertrand had caught in his web?

That had been very much needed.

“Yes,” Maude said firmly, “Every one of his victims is free.”

Squeezing Maude’s hands briefly, she let her go and sat back in her chair, unashamed of the near giddy smile she could feel on her face, saying, “That is excellent news. I need to take down the wards I raised here, then we can go to Fourth Court.”

“He isn’t dead yet, either,” Maude said, smile more than a little vicious and Jaina didn’t blame her at all, voice taking on a singsong quality as she quoted, “Judgment has been rendered, but mortal justice remains.”

“Even _better_.”

=pagebreak=

A new priority this season was definitely teaching the other Firestarters how to manage the Hunting Rite on their own, because Anur _never _wanted to do this again. Last time had been strange, had felt bizarre, and they had spent an entire day recovering from their day and night and another day spent in pursuit. This had been far less strenuous in that regard, he seemed to have missed the noon bells tolling but no additional bells had been rung, so at most he’d spent a half-mark as a half-aware observer in his own skin. That hadn’t been the problem.

No, the _problem_ had been when he came back to himself and the Voice _didn’t leave_. Kir was _gone_ and the Voice had taken his brother’s place. The only reason he was able to speak to the crowd, to explain to the Captains, was because Aelius had very deliberately heightened his presence against Anur’s mind, taking care to partially insulate him from what was happening to Kir. The fact that Aelius had been able to do that without Kir protesting or wondering what was wrong had been entirely alarming in its own right, and they were _never_ doing this Rite again. Especially not if one of them was stuck where they were for some reason, and unable to be invited along.

_:I entirely agree,: _Kir said, Hansa’s Jump-borne flames fading slower than usual, but they finally cleared up enough he could properly see the still-bustling blasted-out courtyard he had left.

His brother’s mind-voice had, for the most part, given everything away. But seeing Kir standing in full Sunhame-standard vestments, barring a missing Sun in Glory emblem, practically encased in flickers of fire, and listing distinctly to one side made his exhaustion far more immediately concerning than mere tone of voice could manage. When he had a bit longer to process, the not-quite hovering Sunsguard would be a lot more hilarious, he could practically _see_ their thought processes – Sunpriest, just manifested the Voice, obviously favored, about to fall over, but _fire _– but for the moment he bypassed all of that and shoved the Oathbreaker towards the pair. Same pair the Justicar’s Lieutenant had sent to help them get Kir and the others out of the storeroom, actually. Convenient.

“Oathbreaker,” he said rather needlessly, not waiting to watch them secure the man; Nameless Eight wasn’t exactly capable of resisting any longer, and Hansa was settling at those guardsmen’s feet beside. Rather, Anur went straight to Kir’s side, frowning when Kir leaned heavily against his shoulder the moment he could, flickers of fire enveloping both of them and Kari alike.

“Easy,” he murmured, examining Kir more carefully, “Thought you said your lung was healed?”

“It was,” Kir replied lowly, huffing a tired laugh, “I think all my traumatic injuries were. Still tired, still sore, and the mental strain hasn’t eased at all, but breathing isn’t painful, and I shrugged without regretting everything so my back is likely fine too.”

“Your back,” Anur said flatly.

“Cracks at most,” Kir murmured, next exhale shaky, one hand going to his head, “Sorry. Spark flurry. There was a long gap with nothing though. Might be getting close to being able to leave.”

“And are you actually going to?” Anur asked pointedly, “Kir, you said you could manage for a mark at _most_, and it has definitely been well over half a mark since you gave that estimate. If you need to leave…”

“They’re halfway through dismantling,” Kir said lowly, “I can give them a bit longer, though not double time.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Anur promised, adding, _:Hear that, you two? Kir is not staying for much longer, kindly hold him to that.:_

_:Of course, Anur,: _Kari said, the Cat sounding rather tired himself, but for the moment more amused than exhausted.

_:I can do that,: _Aelius agreed, sounding distracted, but quickly coming back to them and continuing, _:I think my part of that manifestation went unnoticed, no one is eyeing me any more oddly than usual.:_

_:…not precisely reassuring, witch-horse,: _Kir said, tone distinctly wary and Anur couldn’t blame him at all. Oh certainly, they had heard Aelius referencing the way the stablehands were tiptoeing around him and Riva, and had even just yesterday been laughing about the possibility of Aelius receiving a stud-fee offer. But for Aelius to consider odd glances and sidelong looks _normal_?

_:Oh will you two stop fussing, I know exactly what I am doing. If we were here longer term and more frequently there could be trouble, but so long as we dodge that Brahnas visit and continue our same pattern of visit frequency and length, we’ll be fine, especially until Midsummer,: _Aelius retorted, tone distinctly scolding as he added, _:Focus. On. Your. Problems. Thank you.:_

_:Sir, yes sir!: _Anur replied dryly.

To that end, he told Kir, “Let’s get you back to a bench, I assume you still want me to go with the Justicar when he leaves?”

“Yes,” Kir said, brow furrowing as he looked over his shoulder at the bench he’d left, “…have you seen my coat?”

“The one that has been apparently replaced with very fancy vestments? No,” Anur replied, following his brother’s gaze and seeing a distinct lack of anything resembling a coat. “Hopefully it was just moved or swapped out, not transformed.”

“Vestments don’t have pockets,” Kir mumbled, Anur ignoring that non-sequiter to speak to the two soldiers. The patrolman was holding the Oathbreaker’s arms, while the Corporal was glancing between their target and the pair of them.

Catching his gaze, Anur asked, “The Justicar is still here?”

“Yes, Lieutenant-Enfocer, they’re gathering an estimate on the difficulty of entering this one’s office,” the Corporal reported, indicating the building evidently holding said office, “Once that is done, Holiness Jeryl professed intent to return to Fourth Court with the witnesses in need of more detailed questioning and, now, the Oathbreaker.”

“Good, I need to have a brief discussion with Kir, but will be accompanying you to Fourth Court, kindly pass that along if His Holiness returns while we’re talking,” Anur replied, returning the man’s salute before focusing on Kir again, grimacing when his brother didn’t even protest as Anur hooked his arm over his shoulders and his own arm around Kir’s waist before starting to walk back to that suspiciously coat-free bench. Anur had no idea why the Voice had needed to leave the bench in the first place, though it was likely something about drama and visibility. That was the only reason he could think of for another miraculously induced wardrobe change, after all.

Examining the sleeve hem that was now nearer eye-level, he hummed thoughtfully, cutting across Kir’s disgruntled muttering about where exactly his string and tea packets and arrowheads had better have ended up – that explained the vestments have no pockets comment at least – and saying, “Kir, I think these are your old winter vestments with the fancy additions Jaina commissioned. I see some of those pinpricks from letting out the hems, though it looks like most of them have been disguised by the broader brocade edging.”

“How bad is it?” Kir asked, glancing down at his vestments, “I honestly can’t get a solid grasp of how fancy they are with the whole fire bit covering them up.”

“Definitely fancier than your usual,” Anur decided, helping Kir sit down and finally believing more than he doubted the fact that Kir was mostly healed. There weren’t any hisses of pain, or carefully hidden flinches. This was tiredness.

He took advantage of it to scoot away a bit, get a better angle to look at said vestments. About the only thing that remained of the winter-weight vestments they had started as was the standard cut and the crimson wool. He suspected it had been re-dyed too, mostly because they might as well do so before adding all the flash. Thicker black edging than before, with sunburst motifs stiched on top of the black in copper beads, flanked on both sides by quarter-width golden brocade that had even more beads stitched overtop it in a zigzag pattern, and those beads he suspected were actually gold. The same style was repeated at the bottom hem of the robes and the overlaying mantle, dyed a slightly darker red, and each shoulder was elaborately embroidered with additional sunbursts, the rays trailing down front and back and with flame motifs stiched between each one.

But as elaborate as they were, he had seen the formal vestments the other members of Solaris’ Council wore, and some of the ones Jaina had worn when she was Incendiary when they had been pulled into dismantling some of the more redundant sets under Lumira and Fabron’s direction. These were practically _understated_ in comparison.

“You look a little ridiculous without a Sun-in-Glory,” Anur commented, “They’re too elaborate to go without one.”

“There are _beads,_” Kir grumbled, apparently finally spotting said beads and blatantly ignoring Anur’s implied offer to return his loaned Sun-in-Glory.

Rolling his eyes, because he could have guessed Kir wouldn’t want him going anywhere without every possible visible sign of authority, Anur switched tracks entirely to get some good teasing in, “You’re so shiny!”

_:You’ll have to both make sure I get to see your fancy new uniforms,: _Aelius insisted around snickers, _:It’s only fair!:_

_:Just wait, witch-horse, this Midsummer I’ll get to commission you your own fancy Sunhame uniform and I will make absolutely _certain _there are _so many _bells,: _Kir promised, tone direly sincere and Anur had to cackle at Aelius’ horrified spluttering. His Companion deserved it, he’d been far too smug over the fact that he was a mere horse, and could get away with a quick polish on his Sunsguard tack, while he and Kir had been fitted for all manner of utterly unnecessary formal uniforms. At least he’d been able to dodge the turban, only Captains and above were required to wear them. He had no idea how to wear one of those and Kir would be no help.

He knew Kir had been thinking over the issue of ensuring Aelius-as-Companion was more obvious without necessarily resorting to all of his blue and silver tack once again, but had yet to make any solid preparations or even more than tentative ideas. Anur suspected that was about to change.

Wondering at something, Anur stuck his nose against Kir’s shoulder and inhaled, Kir definitely staring at him and sounding bewildered when he asked, “What are you doing?”

“They don’t smell like spice-tea anymore!” Anur complained, straightening with a disgruntled frown, “I thought maybe it had just faded, but they smell like cedar chips again.”

“Which is a good thing,” Kir said pointedly, eyes narrowing, “And is not something you need to _fix_.”

“Shows what you know,” Anur grumbled, making a mental note to get a more finely woven satchet and perhaps whole spices used in spice tea rather than literal teabags. Or both! Both could also work. Before Kir could continue to protest, Anur refocused on the issue at hand and said, “Right, Kari, kindly stay with Kir and take him back to the District once this mark is up, and stay there, unless urgently needed elsewhere. _Medical attention_, Kir. And not setting everything around you on fire.

“After I get medical attention I might ask Kari to take me to the Trial room for a while,” Kir admitted.

“That – would work, even if it makes me uncomfortable,” Anur conceded, quickly insisting, “But Kari has to stay with you in that case!”

“Deal,” Kir agreed.

Kari nodded his own agreement, leaping up onto the bench on Kir’s other side and saying, _:Hansa agrees, and he will stay with you and the Justicar. Dispersal is continuing, and will simply proceed with more caution and less urgency when you are gone, Eldest. Also, I could not sense entirely what was happening with your manifestation, but I could sense enough to know that I have questions.:_

“So do we all,” Anur grumbled, shaking his head and standing, “Less than even a half-mark, Kir. Let me know what the healer says, please.”

“Of course,” Kir promised, tangling his fingers in Kari’s fur again. Anur could feel the warmth increase behind him, so Kir’s shimmering curtains of fire were back in full force. He’d have to follow up with Aelius to make sure they actually left at the end of this designated mark, because while the Justicar had evidently been willing to wait a bit, he now had three additional witnesses for repeat questioning and the Oathbreaker all assembled and ready to go. There was no reason to delay any longer.

Time to get some questions answered.

_“Wow, three whole pages for only one day? City life really is faster!”_

_“They sound very committed to never having to do that Hunting Rite again.”_

_“No need to sound so disappointed, Devin.”_

_“There is _every _need to sound disappointed!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed these chapters! When I finally realized that I would be splitting the actual hunt across 2 chapters, I also realized that posting them weeks apart from one another would make for really difficult readability, and also, they both needed to be complete before I posted the first one, because they were so intertwined. When I realized I was properly satisfied with both chapters _on Midsummer's Day_, I took it as a sign.
> 
> ADDED LATER: Got some queries about Kir's fancy vestments, and I have some sketches I finally got in order - here you go!
> 
> [Kir's Shiny Winter Vestments](https://www.deviantart.com/muerarashaye/art/Kir-s-Winter-Vestments-Annotated-Sketch-850685586) by MueraRashaye


	11. Some Threads are Tied

The Oathbreaker’s catatonic state was rather horrifying to witness. The fact that he was still capable of answering questions and showed no hesitation at answering was useful, far more useful than his death would have been, but Jeryl would almost prefer the man trying to dodge answering or at least spitting insults or imprecations. At least that sort of behavior showed some sort of _humanity_. Was the man even capable of understanding he had been caught any longer? That his actions had been discovered, and he was facing rightful consequences? The Voice had said that mortal justice remained, but what justice could there be, if the person judged was no longer capable of understanding that the consequences they faced had been earned?

Determining how to achieve that mortal justice for this man was going to be _complicated_, to say the least, but for the moment he only had to worry about the manpower problem of arresting and questioning everyone the Oathbreaker had listed as un-coerced co-conspirator to this plot, including no less than _three _individuals assigned to Fourth Court, though thankfully not ones he had pulled in to work on this case. Speaking to those who had been coerced would have to wait, especially since the Incendiary’s Voice manifestation had apparently removed all traces of the man’s maliciously crafted spellwork.

“Is this catatonic state permanent, Lieutenant-Enforcer?” he asked, glancing over at the soldier when he got within earshot.

The man grimaced, rubbing his face tiredly and admitting, “To be honest, Your Holiness, I have no idea. This is the second time we’ve used this Rite, and that first Nameless One was dead at the end of the Hunt. I _think_ that this is due to the removal of his magecraft, not his declaration of Namelessness, based on Nameless Two through Five – they fought back after their denunciation, so Namelessness alone doesn’t result in this… state.”

Jeryl paused mid-nod, turning and _staring_ after that last comment, and he certainly wasn’t alone in staring, because _what._

“Six,” the Enforcer corrected, an odd set of expressions flickering across his face too quickly for Jeryl to actually register what they were, “Ah. Sorry, there _were _five there, but we started at two. Two through Six. Didn’t actually interact with the other… wait, were those three even Nameless? Gah. This one is either Seven or Ten, depending on whether or not those three we dealt with – oh, right! One moment.”

“Laskaris!” the Enforcer called, the Firestarter in question looking over from where he was designating another spot for barrel-placing, “Did we test if those three with the Hardornens were actually Nameless?”

“Yes, and they were,” the priest called back, evidently knowing exactly what the Enforcer was talking about, “I thought you two denounced them?”

“No, we didn’t, they must have been caught in Anika Brersi’s denunciation, that’s why I doubted. Thank you!” the Enforcer said, turning back to them and saying, “Right then. This one is Nameless Ten. I was really off, I thought he was Eight.”

“You count them?” Holiness Ulrich asked, stealing the words from Jeryl’s mouth.

“It’s the simplest way to keep track of them in the records,” Bellamy replied, shrugging, “Writing ‘the one once called Bertrand’ or whatever their name once was gets tedious, and sometimes I don’t actually know their names – like Two through Nine, off the top of my head I have no idea what their names were. And listing out their crimes isn’t a useful indicator either, since Two through Six had practically the same listing, so far as I’m aware. Given, we usually refer to them as a collective, but if specifics are ever necessary, we need some way to keep track.”

“Right,” Jeryl said faintly, forcibly pulling his mind from _that _unproductive track and asking, “You said removal of his magecraft? That is in addition to the removal of all of his maliciously crafted spellwork?”

“So that _is _what Kir’s half of the Voice manifestation did, good to have that confirmed,” Bellamy muttered to himself, which really only prompted _more _questions, but thankfully before Holiness Ulrich could ask and derail their conversation further, the Enforcer properly replied, saying, “Yes, the exact wording the Voice used was ‘We strip you of your Talents’, one of which was obviously magecraft.”

He couldn’t _not _ask about that, but Holiness Ulrich again beat him to it.

“I’m sorry, are you claiming that magecraft is a Talent?” the black-robe mage-scholar asked.

“Yes,” the Enforcer said, giving him and Ulrich a puzzled glance, “Because it is.”

“I… had not considered that interpretation,” Holiness Ulrich admitted, sounding thoughtful.

“My understanding of magecraft is that, fundamentally, it is the ability to harness magical energy. The level of energy you can safely harness is what results in those power level classifications you use,” the Enforcer said, brow furrowing, “But that underlying _ability_ to harness magical energy is a Talent, so far as I am aware. Hansa?”

_:That is my understanding as well,: _Honored Hansa broadcast, blue eyes boring into the Oathbreaker, _:And to be frank, this one is most definitely no longer a mage after that declaration, so the point is rather proven, I would think.:_

“Fair enough,” Holiness Ulrich said, sounding bemused, before turning to Jeryl and saying, “Apologies for the distraction, Justicar.”

“I had much the same questions,” Jeryl admitted, “But further enquiries must wait. Honored Hansa, is there anyone at Fourth Court you could use as an anchor for Jumping? I would prefer to get this one truly secured as soon as possible regardless of his current state.”

_:Holiness Jaina is almost there, I believe,: _Honored Hansa replied, power-bleached gaze moving to him instead of the Oathbreaker but no less penetrating for it, _:I can take up to four people at once that distance.:_

Jeryl bit back his immediate urge to declare himself one of those four and actually thought out what was needed, rather than what he desperately wanted. Fortunately though, he rather thought his immediate arrival in Fourth Court _was_ the best course of action, particularly since the Enforcer could secure the Oathbreaker for transit and Lieutenant Jergen could be trusted to escort the three in need of further questioning – the priest in the group was no mage, but he might ask Holiness Ulrich to accompany the three soldiers and three witnesses to Fourth Court regardless as additional security. The sheer number of times priests had tried to brush by or ignore Sunsguard officers in the course of an investigation was absurd, and the primary reason he had declared one of his men an Investigator on so very many of his cases.

“Lieutenant Jergen, escort these three to Fourth Court, I will have arranged for witness rooms and statement collection by the time you get there. I need to send orders to – hells. Oathbreaker, how many Sectors of Sunhame do you know for certain hold victims of your spell-based coercion?”

“All of them,” the Oathbreaker said flatly.

“I apparently need to send orders and explanations to literally everyone, and sooner the better,” Jeryl grimaced, “Fantastic. Lieutenant-Enforcer, if you could take the Oathbreaker again? Garth Nolans, you will be the fourth – I would prefer to keep your involvement as quiet as possible, at least until I have Vars in custody.”

“However I can assist, Holiness,” Nolans replied, tone grim but no less sincere for it.

Nodding at the man, Jeryl turned to Holiness Ulrich, but the elder man anticipated him and smiled, saying, “I will join the Lieutenant and your other men, in that case, so I can offer my own statement.”

“Thank you,” he said, relieved he hadn’t needed to ask. Spelling out the fact he doubted other priests’ willingness to cooperate in an investigation seldom went well, no matter how utterly justified he was.

Honored Hansa settled at Jeryl’s feet, the others leaving space for the four of them to stand closer, though the Enforcer deliberately kept the Oathbreaker on the outer edge of their little cluster, and Jeryl refrained from activating mage-sight when those flames sparked. He had heard Holiness Colbern swearing under his breath about flash-blindness after the Hunting Rite, and he doubted mage-sight during a Jump would be any better.

A _wrench_ to one side but no actual motion on his part and his feet slammed back into the ground, stumbling forward and Garth Nolans grabbing his arm to steady him. The Enforcer was half-doubled over and breathing very deliberately, the Oathbreaker actually falling to his knees, even though his expression didn’t so much as twitch.

“Why does that get worse as the day goes on?” the Enforcer wheezed, Jeryl straightening and murmuring thanks to Nolans, who nodded shortly and was practically tackled by a woman who was undoubtedly his sister. They had apparently been brought to the main entryway of Fourth Court, where at least one Justicar and a few Sunsguard served as gatekeepers – Holiness Jaina and Maude Nolans must have only just arrived, Justicar Marya was barely managing to restrain her reaction to basic incredulity. The Sunsguard behind her were properly spluttering, so he felt a little better about his own reactions to the Firecats he had encountered today.

_:Traversing the Void causes cumulative stress on physical shells,: _Honored Hansa was speaking to everyone, by the twitches, the Firecat still seated by Jeryl’s side and tail wrapped neatly around his paws. _:Having a longer gap between Jumps allows that stress to fade, but it takes some marks. Hence your conclusion that Jumping gets worse as the day goes on. Having an overnight stretch with no Jumping is sufficient to relieve that stress – unless you Jump a truly excessive number of times, but at that point you likely face different problems.:_

“Like no longer having a stomach,” the Enforcer grumbled, heaving the Oathbreaker to his feet with assistance from a woman who was undoubtedly Holiness Jaina, regardless of how she was dressed, “Thanks Jaina. Don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about Valerik?”

“How on earth would I hear anything before you?” the priestess retorted, turning to Jeryl and he quickly introduced himself.

“Jeryl, Justicar of the First Order, assigned to Fourth Court,” he said, offering a blessing gesture.

She returned it, inclining her head politely and saying, “Jaina, First Order Firestarter.”

With introductions out of the way, he turned to a now merely intrigued looking Marya and said, “I’ll be needing runners for every Sector Station sent to my office and three witness rooms prepared – one priest, two staff, all from the southern charity temple complex, Lieutenant Jergen is bringing them. A black-robe mage-scholar by the name of Ulrich is accompanying them, he’ll need to be given a space to write out his own witness statement and then can go, he witnessed nothing unique. If anything comes in from those sent to the northern complex, alert me straight away and we’ll definitely need a full team for compiling everything that’s going to be pouring in, this is going to be a _mess_.”

She had started taking notes on her slate the moment he started talking, and was nodding as he went. Tilting the slate so he could read it, everything he had rattled off was on the list, so he took her chalk and added the three names the Oathbreaker had given for Fourth Court co-conspirators and a brief shorthand message that they were to be uninvolved and would soon be taken into custody themselves, once he had a secure place to verbalize orders and another First Order Justicar to hand the names over to. Her eyes narrowed on seeing that, and he met her gaze deliberately, before tapping the fully written out word ‘Oathbreaker’. Marya’s expression went grim, and she returned his short nod before going to the main ready-room’s doorway and snapping off orders. Jeryl left her to it and turned to the others, finding all five of the actually aware people watching him.

“We’ll head to my office,” he informed them, heading for the stairs. He _could_ have sent them to a witness room, but none of those were stocked with ink and paper to the levels he suspected he’d need, and he needed access to his court-seal and wax for the first glut of orders. Besides all of that, he didn’t want the Oathbreaker out of his sight until the Fourth Court coconspirators were secured and unable to try and silence him.

“What happened to this one?” he heard Holiness Jaina ask, taking up the tail of their group with the Enforcer and Oathbreaker immediately in front of her and the Nolans siblings on Jeryl’s heels with Honored Hansa.

“Hunting Rite to catch him, don’t worry, Colbern and Laskaris saw the Rite, Seras can interrogate them to his heart’s content, and the third denunciation resulted in a stripping of Talents. He’s no longer a mage.”

“Well, that’s one way to get definitive proof that magecraft is a Talent,” she said, amusement clear despite the way her voice echoed in the stairwell. They had three floors here, and all First Order Justicars had their offices on the outer edge of the top floor, while the central space was filled with shelves of legal references and filing cabinets filled with blank copies of commonly used forms.

“Hansa also agrees with the classification, so I think we can start presenting it as fact,” the Enforcer said, “Did you see Etrius and Rodri at all or were you set on the trap unraveling before they made it to the market?”

“I saw the swarm of locusts they were escorting, though didn’t manage to see them themselves,” she said dryly, more than one snort of amusement responding to that description, the priestess continuing, “When did the purge of maliciously crafted magic happen? Was that part of the Rite somehow?”

“Define ‘part of’,” the Enforcer said, huffing a laugh, “No, that was Kir’s half of the Voice manifestation.”

“Of the _what_?!”

“Well, sounds like it was an exciting case,” Justicar Mattis said, the next-most senior Justicar of Fourth Court appearing in his office doorway and looking more than half-asleep despite the smell of overbrewed and very caffeinated tea coming from his mug. Some days it felt as though the man was singlehandedly responsible for half of the more amusing stereotypes about Justicars, but he was very good at his job and hadn’t taken an unreasonable bribe in his life.

Allowing his colleagues to bribe him with tea and treats so he would help them with their reports was _very _reasonable.

“I believe you want the present tense of that verb,” Jeryl retorted, jerking his head towards his own office, “Come along, I have a job for you too, and it won’t be wrapped up before Midwinter.”

“Excellent,” the man muttered, “If you had added a case file to my end-of-year summation, I would have cried in front of the acolytes.”

Which would have sent the acolytes into a panic, spawned all sorts of wildly escalating rumors at all levels, and ended with the man receiving a massive gift basket of teas and pastries and pamphlets of terrible puns masquerading as riddles. To be frank, Jeryl didn’t see why Mattis wouldn’t want that to happen, but appreciated it nonetheless.

“You mentioned a Voice manifestation, Lieutenant-Enforcer?” Mattis prompted.

“A joint one, yes,” the Enforcer replied, focusing back on Holiness Jaina as he continued, “The Voice manifestation – I definitely told Seras our first usage of the Rite resulted in a joint Voice manifestation. This one did too, though it was… oddly overlapping, from what I could tell.”

Jeryl glanced over his shoulder at the pair while he ran through his long-memorized unlocking spell and key sequence, wondering how much of that was something Holiness Jaina knew how to interpret – he certainly didn’t understand much of its implications. It seemed she only had more questions as well, looking distinctly startled, while Bellamy had an odd grimace on his face. Whatever it was he meant by an ‘oddly overlapping’ joint Voice manifestation, it had likely been an uncomfortable experience.

“Well. We’ll be spoiled for choice for Conclave tales,” Holiness Jaina finally said, shaking her head, “A _joint_ Voice manifestation, no, Seras never mentioned that phrasing to me.”

He could see Mattis startle at that statement, giving Her Holiness a longer look, now that she had mentioned the Firestarters’ annual meeting.

“It didn’t sound like he had heard of it,” the Enforcer said, definitely uncomfortable now. Jeryl couldn’t blame him, opening his office door and heading in, waving for the rest to follow him. Fortunately, he often held informal meetings in his office, so while it was rather cramped, there was enough seating, so long as the siblings shared the bench under the window regardless of its awkward closeness to his desk and he cleared the least comfortable chair in the Court of his pile of notes from the year. He’d almost finished his end-of-year report – fortunately reports were due for any case _finished_ in the previous year, so he and those recruited to assist wouldn’t have to try and write this mess up before Midwinter’s Day.

“This one’s the least comfortable,” he said over his shoulder, gathering the stack of reports and carefully setting them on the floor with the chunk of an old stonework lintel he used as a paperweight.

“Cheers,” the Enforcer murmured, manhandling the Oathbreaker into said chair and frowning before shifting the man’s bindings so his arms were hooked behind the back of the chair.

“Is that even necessary?” Holiness Jaina asked, Mattis stepping through behind her and shutting the door.

“Eh. Unsure. Stupid reason to get stabbed though,” the Enforcer replied, shrugging and leaning against the wall beside the Oathbreaker out of the same sense of caution. Jeryl appreciated it, though he did agree with Holiness Jaina that it was likely unnecessary.

The soldier’s gaze settled on Mattis, nodding politely and saying, “Lieutenant-Enforcer Anur Bellamy, Your Holiness.”

“Mattis, First Order Justicar,” his colleague replied, turning to Jaina and saying, “And if I’m not mistaken, you are Holiness Jaina, First Order Firestarter and former Incendiary?”

“I am,” she confirmed, taking up a spot near the Nolans siblings, “Though I cannot say I am very involved in this investigation.”

“I will need your witness statement at the very least,” Jeryl said absently, hauling the forms for arrest of Court-assigned Sunsguard and the separate forms required to formally accuse and arrest a priest, particularly a Justicar. Mattis recognized the elaborate header on the latter and raised an eyebrow, setting aside whatever questions he had to step closer and peer over Jeryl’s papers.

“Three total?” the man murmured, grimacing, “That’s what you have me on, then.”

“Likely more,” Jeryl replied grimly, writing out names and justification while his sealing wax warmed, “These three are simply those named as willing co-conspirators involved in this latest scheme. Oathbreaker, how many willing co-conspirators do you have within Fourth Court?”

“Three,” the man said, voice still utterly flat.

“Who knows if my willing co-conspirators wording is sufficient,” Jeryl muttered under his breath, “Hopefully it is. Right. There are likely those who were coerced as well, but that will have to wait. If anyone approaches you after these arrests to discuss themselves being coerced, kindly take down their testimony and if they find themselves literally unable to state the name of one of those involved, prompt them to state the name with the precursor phrase ‘the one once called’.”

Mattis choked on his tea and had to spit it back into his mug, wheezing and now properly staring between the Oathbreaker and Jeryl, “You mean this man is properly _Nameless_? The old way, not just – out of custom?”

“Yes,” Jeryl said, understanding his colleague’s loss of composure completely but unable and unwilling to answer his questions right now, “Nameless and Oathbreaker.”

“Definitely an _is_ interesting, then,” Mattis murmured, glancing over the names Jeryl had finished writing and grimacing, “Hells. Felis set my teeth on edge, but _Edric?_”

“Apparently so,” Jeryl said, stamping all three sets. Waiting for the wax to set and the ink to dry for at least a few more moments, he examined Mattis carefully before glancing Honored Hansa’s way, the Firecat seated at Enforcer Bellamy’s side. Mattis hadn’t commented on his presence at all – if that was due to lack of opportunity or lack of awareness, Jeryl didn’t know.

The Enforcer smiled grimly and gave the Sunsguard’s one handed signal for ‘assent’ before he spoke up, “Holiness Mattis, keeping in mind the fact that the old penalties for Oathbreaking are now provably enforceable, would you be willing to swear an oath that you will secure the three individuals on those orders with all possible legal speed, and ensure they are _kept_ secure and separated, without using excessive force?”

“Definitely present tense,” Mattis repeated, hesitating before saying, “So long as another Justicar is the one to declare me Oathbreaker, should I be judged to be in default – we have policies and procedures unique to our branch of the priesthood, and I would want that taken into account.”

“Truth, and a reasonable caveat,” the Enforcer said mildly, turning back to Jeryl and inclining his head, “His willingness, stated under truth compulsion, is sufficient for myself and Honored Hansa, Justicar. However if you would prefer the additional security of such an oath, by all means.”

Jeryl had no idea how the Enforcer had been able to guess what he was after so very well, though he supposed it would be a rather obvious course of action to someone more familiar with using truth compulsions in their investigations, but he was impressed. He also appreciated both Mattis’ caveat and the fact that the Enforcer realized it was reasonable.

“I consider it sufficient,” Jeryl said, handing the scrolls over to Mattis, “Thank you, Mattis. Once you have those three secured, I need this one hauled down to one of the warded interrogation rooms.”

“Of course,” Mattis agreed, looking a little blindsided and having visibly startled at reference to Honored Hansa, so the Cat had apparently been hiding himself somehow, “But – my apologies, a truth compulsion?”

_:It is one of our abilities, we call it Tell Me True.:_

“Fascinating,” Mattis murmured, giving a slight bow to the Cat, “My thanks for the explanation, Honored Hansa. Jeryl, I’ll come for this one myself once everyone is secured.”

With that, he headed out, and Jeryl deliberately put the coming disastrously complicated _mess_ resulting from a Justicar being proven corrupt from his mind. They had been lucky so far – no current Fourth Court Justicars had been accused, though there had been some of their Sunsguard whose judgment had been deemed suspect and their cases in need of review. Last he’d heard, that effort had been nearly wrapped up – and now this would start it all up again. It needed to be done, of course, as messy and terrible as it would undoubtedly be, but for the moment he had more urgent things to handle.

“Once I get the orders and announcements for the runners drafted and stamped, I’ll collect your testimony, Mistress Nolans – and your own, Holiness Jaina. Garth Nolans, I’ll need to formally collect and record your own testimony regarding today’s events as well, but that can wait a bit – what I need more urgently is a crime committed by Darius Vars that you can testify to under truth compulsion as an eyewitness, so I can issue formal arrest orders.”

“That I can do,” Nolans said grimly, finally sitting down with his sister on the padded bench, and Holiness Jaina claiming a nearby chair for herself.

“If you’d like,” the ex-Sunsguard continued carefully, “I can list the laws broken in the incident I have in mind under truth compulsion, and give the full story later – so you can issue those orders as quickly as possible.”

“This case is going to spoil me terribly with these truth compulsions,” Jeryl muttered, drawing out a stack of sixteen generic incident summary-and-response forms and, from another drawer, four arrest warrants. Seventh and Eighth, both Outer and Inner, were Vars’ most common stomping grounds, and name alone would be sufficient for those Sector Stations. The others he would have to file with a full description of Vars on top of the basics, and ideally a sketch though he wouldn’t be able to produce one himself, he’d never properly interacted with the wretch.

“You have an incident in mind already?” he confirmed, filling out name and former occupation and the few haunts he’d heard of while he spoke.

“Yes, Your Holiness.”

“In that case – the list of laws Vars broke, whenever you’re ready.”

=pagebreak=

Grevenor had never been healed by one of the true Healers before – the ones that could only Heal, not the mages trained to heal in their own way. It had been rather strange in comparison to mage-craft healing, simply because he was a mage himself and could perceive some of what those spells were doing when performed on him. He was unable to replicate it, of course, he was no healer, but he was able to sense it. He could sense none of what this Healer did aside from the physical sensations. It made the clear delineation the old regime had made between true Healers and mage-Healers a lot more understandable.

Both methods drew on the healed individual’s reserves, however, though as his most severe injury had been his punctured eardrums and he had managed to avoid even cracking any bones, he was not so exhausted as he had feared he would be. A good thing, too. Solaris and Karchanek were not being particularly subtle about the fact they wished to speak to him. The Healer left with an exchange of blessing gestures and mention that he was going to the Firestarter’s Hall in case his colleague needed assistance, receiving Her Emminence’s sincere thanks.

Karchanek was watching him as though he might be a threat.

“Karchanek, what on earth could I have done to offend you so badly?” he asked tiredly, tilting his head back against the armchair he’d been shoved into.

“You’re being a coward. _Again_,” the younger man scoffed, “Years of talking and praying, and you still try and shove responsibility onto others.”

“I do not!” Grevenor snapped, indignant and feeling a rush of energy with it, “How _dare _you!”

“How dare _you_!” Karchanek spat back, freezing when Her Eminence raised one, quelling finger. They both averted their gazes, and Grevenor knew they both felt the same shame. Tiredness and stress were valid explanations, but in truth they were merely excuses.

“I did not choose my Council to fill my ears with my own opinions,” Solaris said sternly, “But I _did _choose those who could express those differences in opinion coherently, and without resorting to _volume_ in an effort to persuade!”

“Apologies, Your Eminence,” they both murmured

“Apologies accepted, so long as you actually try to do better,” she said, still every inch their Son of Sun, not the woman they could call friend, “And I do not simply mean this moment, where you both resort to insults and tedious repetition! When I hold Council sessions, I wish to _hear_ your opinions. That is the entire _point_, and now I find myself learning that one of my Councilors is incapable of interacting with Firestarters without resorting to barbs and sneering in the midst of a crisis! That is _unacceptable_, Grevenor! Entirely unacceptable! You have every right to your own opinions but when they impact your actions, when they lead you to directly contradict _another Councilor_ and have them _surprised _by it, you go too far! You have had every chance to express your concerns in a constructive manner to myself, to your fellows, to the Incendiary directly, and you have clearly not taken them!

“This ends _now_,” Solaris said, staring them both down and Grevenor fancied he could feel her gaze like a weight across his shoulders, “Grevenor. What were you _thinking_? What _are _you thinking?”

Grevenor was tempted to glance at Karchanek, because they _had_ discussed this together over the years, had prayed together, after both of them had a more solid understanding of the sorts of reforms Solaris would be bringing with her. Of the things they had done thinking they were right and lawful and only later found they were wretched and wrong. But he also knew that doing so would only prove Karchanek’s point.

“They became the _worst _of us,” he finally said, “Their Order was supposed to hold the priesthood to a higher standard! Keep us honest! And they failed utterly and wantonly and fell the furthest of everyone! They are the _worst _of us and they are all still _here_! None of their authority has been taken away, none of their people have been disciplined, every single _one _of them are carrying on as though they were not monsters! As though they were not a manifestation of everything terrible in the old regime!

“The worst of the summoners, of the necromancers, were all dead within _weeks_ of your Ascent,” he explained, he pleaded, “Nameless and Oathbreakers and _dead_, but not a single Firestarter? Not a single _one _of them held to the same standard? Perhaps they are needed against Hardorn, but a few _demotions_ at the very least and instead there is _nothing_.”

The room practically echoed with the silence that fell.

“There are no less than twelve former summoners still in the priesthood who genuinely long for the days they could call down Furies,” Solaris said, voice cold, “There are _far _more than twelve members of the priesthood who still think that Talents are wrong – perhaps not utter demonic evil, but certainly worth culling from our population. Worth burning children for. Would you have me kill every one of them? Demote them, _humiliate_ them, for daring to have their own opinions? For daring to have their own thoughts?”

“What?” he asked, startled, “No! Of course not, they can be persuaded, that is what the mandatory seminars are supposed to do – “

“Then what makes the Firestarters so different?” she snapped, a loss of composure that was terrifying for its rarity, “Why should _they _die for following the former regime’s laws, and no one else? You are not thinking clearly, Grevenor, and this is unlike you.”

“They were supposed to stop it,” he insisted, but his voice sounded small, his own confidence, his own fury, withering to nothing in his chest. All that was left was the guilt and grief that underlay everything.

“The _Order_ could have _possibly_ intervened in the initial descent, yes,” Solaris said, very precise emphasis on the words that made her statement anything but an agreement with him, “An Order of never more than twenty-one individuals, stand against a priesthood well into the thousands.”

“The first custom and law we can point to as wrong, as directly contradicting a tenet of the Sunlord’s Path, was implemented nearly seven hundred years ago. For nearly a century before that, questionable decisions made with potentially the best of intentions were recorded,” Karchanek said, repeating information Ulrich and his scholarly allies had compiled and tallied over the past few years, if only making proper and public reports in this past one, “Grevenor, holding a grudge against the current members of the Order for something that old is ridiculous, even if your grudge against those long-dead members was valid, which it isn’t. You turned your lover’s student in for witchcraft, and she wasted away from grief after the boy burned. That is _tragic_, that is _horrible_, but it was not the Firestarters’ job to stop you. Are they responsible for burning him? Yes. Obviously. Are they any more responsible for that death than you? I rather doubt it.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Grevenor hissed, feeling his eyes burn at the memory, as they always did, “You think I don’t know that I’m the reason they’re both dead? Because I do! And I have worked so very hard to atone for that even though it’s _impossible_.”

“And you do not think the Firestarters are trying to atone?” Solaris asked, tone still pointed, but somehow gentler. He didn’t deserve that.

“They have lost _nothing_!” he nearly snapped, “Incandescence Dinesh has taken so very many others to task and has done _nothing_ to his own! He’s even pushing one of the Third Orders for promotion, did you know that? He’s saying it’s ridiculous she hasn’t been promoted years ago, that she hadn’t already earned a higher rank over the ashes of children! He risks himself _recklessly_ to defend them, to keep them from danger, when he is the _best _of them.”

“Lost _nothing_?” Karchanek demanded, voice incredulous, but Solaris raised a hand and silenced him.

“They have lost every veil they could possibly use to shield their eyes from the horror of what they have done,” Solaris said, hard and implacable as steel once again, “They have lost every reassurance of righteousness, of necessity, of honored duty, that allowed them to fall back asleep after nightmares of children screaming awoke them. They have lost their shield from the anger and terror of their fellows, of the laity, because they can no longer tell themselves they are protecting them, they are serving as the last line of defense against evil that would consume and condemn our very souls. They. Have. _Lost_. Grevenor. They have lost so _very_ much.”

She rose to her feet, and smoothed down her vestments.

“You are tired, and continuing this will only dissolve into the three of us raging at each other. Meditate and pray on what we have discussed, Grevenor, because we _will_ be returning to this topic,” she promised, very nearly grim. “Karchanek, I will trust you to assist Grevenor to his quarters without aggravating things further. If you feel you cannot, call for Larschen or someone similar to assist. I will be going to Ari’s Hall. I wish to speak to my brother.”

=pagebreak=

Lumira was surprised to find Maltin in the kitchen, one of their archive’s multitude of books regarding Vanya Flamesinger in hand. As a rule, she did not see Maltin very much at all, though that was mostly explained by the fact that she had been spending the majority of her time out of Sunhame this year, trying to help the men who’d sworn their loyalty to her for no reason beyond the fact she’d treated them with basic decency.

The Eldest had asked her to report on some of the horrors she had heard of from her people, so that the Firestarters had a more solid idea of the sort of enemy they had gathering to their north. She had finished compiling what she wanted to say while he and the Enforcer were out of Sunhame, and had been hoping to get the chance to ask for permission to only relay some of these things before the whole Order.

Henrik was very nearly twenty years younger than her, and seven years younger than the Eldest. The difference in life experience, attitude, and sheer _presence_ those seven years made for left Henrik and their younger set seeming so very much younger than they were. But the ordained ones she could not justify sheltering, they would be on the front lines with the rest of them. The students though… them she could try and shield. Them she had always tried to shield, but any successes on her part had been severely curtailed by the realities of Sunhame as a woman.

She had needed to practically _beg_ to convince Seras to back her on taking Jaina for a few patrols instead of leaving the entirety of her education to Verius. As it was, it had taken the Phyrrus fiasco for him to actually _do_ anything about it, instead of simply making the suggestion to Armand a couple of times a year and accepting the man’s refusal without more than a token protest. When she had finally managed to speak with Jaina about the realities of being a priestess and a Firestarter, she had been ready to murder Verius with her own two hands because Jaina had been left with the most horrific of blind spots.

Fortunately, dealing with Verius’ greed for students had become a moot point upon his death.

“Any fresh insights, Acolyte Maltin?” she asked, making herself a mug of tea and finding the upper cupboard stash of spiced apple liquer she and Laskaris split the cost of every Conclave. Normally she would save it for the opening, but after this morning and what she had been hearing about everyone _else’s_ morning, she needed at least a splash.

“No, Holiness Lumira,” Maltin said, Lumira topping off the kettle before returning it to the hearth and sitting down across from Kavrick’s student. Now that the Eldest was no longer exiled, every Firestarter had their own little cohort of near-yearmates in the Order, with Kavrick and Valerik just enough older than herself and Laskaris that they had only had a few moons of overlap as acolytes.

Valerik had taken her out into Sunhame a few times. She hadn’t worn the name Mira in well over a decade, now, but once upon a time, knowing how to get out of the District and into a marketplace where she could talk frankly about embroidery and stiching without being talked down to as a _mere _stitch-witch or stammered at as a terrifying monster had kept her sane. She had dusted off that name a few moons ago to get her hands on the perfect gradient-dyed thread for the Eldest’s mantle’s flame-motifs. The tailors here were excellent, especially after years of getting used to her hands-on involvement in Firestarters’ vestments, but sometimes she truly wanted to inspect goods herself rather than give a description and hope whatever they found was adequate.

“Fair enough,” she replied lightly, offering Maltin a smile, “Though I suspect you’ll be asked that question a lot, going forwards.”

He returned her smile at least faintly, which she would take as the victory it was, before ducking his head to focus on his book again. She let him, and instead focused on savoring her tea and what she suspected would be one of the few quiet moments of the next few days.

“I think some of the stranger songs he wrote were trying to make the sun-blessed steel song something others could hear,” Maltin said quietly, tilting his book towards her so she could see that he had grabbed the biography that doubled as a compilation of Flamesinger’s compositions, placing each piece of music into the biography as he wrote it or near the event which supposedly inspired it, depending on the song.

“Oh?” Lumira asked, leaning forward to look at the song in question. She had no idea how to read music, particularly not the complicated multi-component hymns like the one Maltin was pointing out, but she could at least read the title. The fact that there were no lyrics was also interesting, and explained why she couldn’t recall ever hearing it – tonal chanting with instrumental backing of some complicated variety, if she wasn’t completely misreading those annotations.

“I haven’t heard this one,” Maltin admitted, pulling the book back towards himself, “But Father Kavrick asked me if I thought I could write out what the music sounded like, and when I tried to think about what I would need to include, I remembered seeing this once and wondering about why someone would write a hymn like this. It isn’t – no one would play it, Holiness.”

“Why not?” Lumira asked, propping her chin on her hand and wondering briefly how Valerik was doing – she had just returned from her messenger run to Fourth Court, and had heard murmurs of some sort of excitement involving broken spellcraft as she walked through the District, but had yet to actually see anyone else. Kavrick and Valerik were undoubtedly in Valerik’s room with whatever healer had been arranged, while the others were all off on their own missions. That only left herself and Maltin to wait for word.

At least he had a project to keep himself occupied, rather than fretting. She would gladly take advantage of this project herself.

“It’s too complicated,” Maltin replied, pointing out pieces of the music – at least nine pages all for this song, it was certainly _long_, whatever else it was, “To actually perform it would require a full vocalist choir and at least six instruments. The only place large enough to host that with the right acoustics to not drown anything out would be the main temple here, and with how long it is, there would be time for at least two full-length processionals. No service would fit that in.”

“What you hear from Sun-blessed steel is truly so complicated?” Lumira asked, feeling more than a little wistful. She had no skill for music, never had, but she _appreciated_ it. What must it be like, to hear the world as the Eldest did? To hear sun-blessed steel as a chorus all its own? Kavrick’s request might have been made in an effort to give Maltin some project he could sink his teeth into without growing overwhelmed or discouraged by the sheer volume of things they did not yet know or understand, but she would bet it was at least partially motivated by the same wonder she felt herself.

“Pieces,” Maltin admitted, looking at the pages and folding his hands in his lap, “It changes, over time, from what Rodri said. I didn’t hear any of that shift, when I heard it, but I didn’t listen for very long. It was mostly – it was mostly _loud_.”

“You should try and record what you hear, I would be interested to see how it compares to this piece,” Lumira encouraged, before smiling faintly, “Though looking at this piece, I suppose you’ll need to take more classes with the chorus to do it proper justice.”

“Father Kavrick helped me sign up for an intermediate instrumentals course,” Maltin admitted, sounding cautiously delighted, “I can’t add any more classes for spring, but sometimes they invite students to the advanced seminars.”

“Well then, I’ll hope you receive one of those invitations,” Lumira said, making a mental note to ask Kavrick what other courses Maltin had to complete before his education was considered adequate for ordination. Determining some sort of independent study replacement for some couldn’t be too difficult, and that might free up some of his future terms for additional music classes.

Maltin actually smiled at her when he replied, “Thank yo – “

The knotted bracelets she’d started making this year tightened painfully around her wrist, and the window over Maltin’s shoulder went from the shapes of the courtyard tinted by the color of the glass to solid red-yellow-gold.

“Get away from the windows!” she barked, lunging for the door and pressing her hands against it – warm, not truly hot, but too warm for this door to be safe to open just now, “Get Kavrick, Maltin, quickly!”

The student was already halfway to the exit and very nearly bowled Her Eminence over when he lunged out the door, stammering hasty apologies but not waiting for an acknowledgment before bolting for the stairs. Lumira would have to tell Kavrick about that; he would be so proud. She didn’t bother to acknowledge the woman either, focusing instead on the courtyard that undoubtedly held their Eldest.

The door was cooling, and the windows were no longer entirely blocked by fire. Lumira readied some of her emergency extinguishing spells, only useful in her immediate surroundings and only for a very short time indeed, and cracked open the courtyard door. No fire rushed her, and she could see the gravel and stone and dirt that made up the courtyard this time of year, so she opened the door fully and stepped out, Her Eminence quickly following with two Sunsguard in tow, though they at least looked a little twitchy at the curls and curtains of fire that were flickering in and out of existence in front of them.

The Eldest was on his knees, and wearing the vestments she and Fabron had enchanted and embroidered, so he had some additional protection beyond his own abilities. Kari was with him, but both of them looked exhausted, and unless she was very much mistaken, the Eldest was leaning so far forward to let blood drip from his face onto gravel, instead of onto his new vestments. The man was far from vain, though he certainly understood the value of a display; she suspected that whatever had gotten him into those vestments had been more along the lines of the minor miracle of his investiture as Incendiary, rather than anything so mundane as Kari fetching his robes for him to change into for a bit of uniform-induced shock-and-awe.

Her Eminence plucked a hair from her own head and tested one of the nearby fires with it, grimacing when it caught alight and dropping it, saying ruefully, “I suppose that fireproof trick really does only apply to Anur.”

Lumira wondered what that was about, but her extinguishing spells were ready for use, so rather than ask, she carefully started undoing the first braided strand and stepped into the clear space it made. One strand got her to the Eldest’s side, and she started the second as she knelt next to him and prompted, “Eldest? You need to be seen by a healer, is there any way you can get these flames extinguished?”

“I am _trying_,” the Eldest rasped, Kari shaking himself and near visibly straining under some unseen weight – undoubtedly trying to do the same. A glance over her shoulder showed Her Eminence standing at the edge of the courtyard with her guards, head bowed and hands clasped in front of her, and no sign of Kavrick.

“Hells,” Lumira muttered, focusing on the flames which were still very much present, “And even if he was here this sort of fire wouldn’t be something Kavrick’s wards would do any better with. What can I bring you to make things easier for you? Anything?”

“Do you have a kerchief or something?” he asked wearily, “These vestments – I can’t bleed on them.”

“We could wash them in time for Midwinter’s Day, but it would be unfortunate,” Lumira said, hesitating before carefully offering one arm, unable to stop unweaving her braided spell, “My sleeve has a kerchief in it, I can’t stop the unweaving, it’s keeping me from burning.”

“Right, right. Oh. That’s clever,” the Eldest murmured, managing to find the kerchief tucked into her sleeve even while his gaze was locked on her carefully paced unraveling, “You only have one braid segment left, you should go.”

“I have another six of these bands,” Lumira said dryly, “Though they are in my room. I’ll fetch them, I might be able to extend their field of influence to include a healer.”

“I’m not injured any longer,” he said, utterly disregarding the blood he was wiping off his face with her kerchief, “This is strain, not injury. Anur is simply fussing.”

“Your Enforcer is simply sane,” she retorted, rising to her feet while their Eldest chuckled and shaking her head as she turned to walk back out of his fires. She choked on air when Her Eminence looked up and walked straight into the fires. The two Sunsguard also scrambled, but stopped before making it a step or two, the fires preventing them from coming any closer but Her Eminence, despite her first test’s failure, was not burning.

Lumira’s sleeve caught and she cursed, hastily starting her unraveling again and continuing forward, passing Her Eminence as she went – were Her Eminence’s eyes gold? They weren’t blazing with light as they had during the Voice manifestation Lumira had witnessed, and there was none of that weighty _presence_ the Voice carried, the woman who passed her certainly seemed to be Solaris, not someone Other…

“What is this about you dodging a healer, brother?” she heard, and that voice was definitely Solaris herself, arch tone and all.

“I am not _dodging_, I am simply _hazardous_,” the Eldest protested.

“Oh, of course. My mistake,” Her Eminence said, sounding amused in spite of herself, and Lumira was finally far enough from the flames she could stop her unraveling and look back.

Her Eminence knelt in front of the Eldest and gathered Honored Kari onto her lap, the Firecat going practically boneless the moment he settled, and Lumira could just hear the murmur of low-toned conversation under the uncannily quiet whispering of the fires in the air – no wood or coal to snap and crackle, just whatever was floating in the air and burning under at the Eldest’s will, and somehow the complete lack of any golden light or divine manifestation made the entire thing so much more unnerving. The golden firestorm yesterday had been dramatic, had been surprising, and everyone had converged to help solve the issue. But this?

The Eldest was treating it as an _inconvenience_.

“Do you know if Her Eminence had any tasks which needed to be completed here?” Lumira asked the soldiers.

“No, Your Holiness, she simply stated she wished to speak with the Incendiary,” the Captain said, bowing slightly as most Temple Guard did towards priests and priestesses.

Lumira nodded in return, completing her segment’s unraveling and tying it off before pocketing it. She was about to explain that she needed to fetch more supplies to at least have a chance of safely getting a healer into their still fire-filled courtyard when the door to the kitchen opened again and Kavrick stepped out, Maltin and a priest-priestess pair she’d never met in tow. She knew by sight practically every ordained priestess in Sunhame, so this woman had to be one of the formerly isolated true Healers – either that, or a pastoral red-robe, but her black vestments disallowed that.

“Less dramatic than your firestorm, at least,” Kavrick said to his student, tone dry enough he had to be teasing.

Maltin’s flat look only confirmed it.

“He’s trying to extinguish them but cannot manage it,” Lumira reported, Kavrick nodding and drumming his fingers against his arm.

“Apparently the utter suppression of flammability he was utilizing to keep things from going catastrophically wrong is very counterintuitive, and when he no longer needed to suppress fire totally, this… backlash, of sorts, is the result,” Kavrick said, grimacing, “Or at least, that is what I got from Henrik’s rather rushed report. Starting fires is always easier than keeping them from every forming, it seems reasonable enough. It will make getting him medical treatment more difficult though, Henrik mentioned a punctured lung?”

“_What_?!”

Fortunately, Kari spoke up before Lumira could forget she only had one extinguishing strand left and storm into fires to shout at the Eldest for blatantly lying to her, broadcasting, _:No longer punctured. There was a joint Voice manifestation, his more critical injuries were healed; punctured lung and punctured eardrums for certain, he believes his bone fractures are also resolved, but mental strain and general bruising is still an issue, and the bones would be worth confirming.:_

“I rather think all of it would be worth confirming,” the unknown priestess said mildly, exchanging a glance with her colleague before looking to Lumira.

“Lumira, Third Order Firestarter,” she introduced herself, looking between the healers, “I will be able to get one of you through the flames without being burned, though it will have a time limit, and I can definitely not manage to keep both of you unburned. Kavrick, thoughts?”

“Your techniques would be better for this,” Kavrick admitted, brow furrowing, “My methods would all be wards, and if this is backlash from severe mental strain… suppressing it could go rather badly, if it even worked.”

“And Henrik has all of your anchors anyway, Father Kavrick,” Maltin inserted quietly.

“Ach, good point, I forgot about that,” Kavrick grimaced.

Before they could finalize anything, or the healers could even properly introduce themselves, the fires in the courtyard shrank down to pinpricks; mere sparks, flickering and refusing to die, but unmoving and easy to avoid. Still, no need to be unsafe, she would get a few more of her extinguishing strands and then take one of the healers in –

Her Eminence gestured, and both healers brushed right past them. The Sunsguard attempted to follow but Lumira grabbed both of them by their collars and hissed, “_Hold_!”

They both froze, and she scowled at them, settling her one remaining extinguishing strand back into her hands as she said, “If anything disturbs his concentration, if his hold on those sparks fails, I will be lucky if I can get both of them out. I will be lucky if I can get _one _of them out. Her Eminence is in no danger, so kindly refrain from making my job any harder than it already is.”

“I can get one of them out alive; we might be a little singed, but we’ll be alive,” Kavrick told her, pressing a hand to Maltin’s shoulder and murmuring a request to brew headache tea before following her to the idiot healers’ sides.

They were already kneeling on either side of the Eldest, hands pressed against his back and sides, and murmuring to one another about whatever it was they were perceiving. She went to stand behind the priest, while Kavrick took the priestess. With any luck, they wouldn’t have to grab their respective healer and bolt for the edge of the courtyard, but better to be ready to do so than to have the Firestarters blamed for scarring or even killing some of Sunhame’s most treasured resources. They were going to have enough rumors to counteract after this whole framing-Valerik business, and that was _with _the priest actually behind it all apparently caught.

“Deep tissue bruising, but no fractures in bones or organ damage I can sense,” her healer concluded, “Beginning more focused examination of lungs.”

“Moving to head injuries,” the priestess-healer replied, settling her hand against the back of the Eldest’s neck and letting her eyes slide mostly shut, “Injuries were caused by impact?”

The Eldest gave a one-handed sign of affirmation, but Kavrick responded verbally, saying, “Caught in an explosion in an enclosed area; thrown against barrels in addition to the shockwave itself. Lots of fine particulates in the air too. Lung was reportedly repunctured by that impact.”

“_Re_punctured,” the male healer muttered, “Hmm. Yes, I can see that. Lungs are not punctured, nor do they have any fluid in them. Aggravated due to poor air quality, and some lingering weaknesses, likely due to that prior injury. I may be able to strengthen them, but it will take more time and is not needed urgently.”

Kavrick and she both nodded, and she caught the Eldest’s insistent _delay_ hand-signal, agreeing entirely with his decision and relaying it aloud, “That can wait, then, until the Eldest is under less strain.”

“Yelena?” the priest prompted, the female healer humming but not responding otherwise. He apparently knew what she meant, though, and settled his hand over hers.

“I can lessen _some_ inflammation caused by the mental strain of your abilities, and though there are no lingering signs of it I suspect you had a concussion simply due to the other injuries you suffered,” the priestess, apparently Yelena, said, speaking directly to the Eldest, “Your punctured eardrums were healed completely, as well. Nothing critical remains, though as Coric said, I would like to see what aid we can offer when you are under less strain.”

“That can be arranged,” Lumira promised, because regardless of what the Eldest wanted, Jaina and the Enforcer would undoubtedly agree with her. By the flicker of amusement across Kavrick’s face, he knew exactly what she was thinking, and definitely agreed with her. She was right, after all.

The healers accepted that response, and rose to their feet, bowing to Her Eminence and accepting her blessing before leaving, Kavrick following them both and Lumira holding back until they were clear, and starting her final unraveling the moment the sparks flared back into proper flames.

“Will you both be remaining here?” she asked, not letting her breath hitch in alarm out of sheer stubbornness.

“Yes,” Solaris responded, breathing no longer synchronized with the Eldest’s, continuing over the Eldest’s wordless protest, “No, Kir, you are not going to the Trial room unless you start burning this courtyard to the point of damage. Here, others could reach you with their extinguishing spells, should they need to. That Trial room? The only one who could get to you would be Jaina, and she is not here, or Kari, and he is exhausted. You can let your fires burn, and not have to struggle to keep yourself alive.”

“Is there anything I can bring the two of you?” Lumira asked, rather than get diverted by the realization that the rumors of the Eldest using the Trial room as a _safeguard _were apparently _accurate_, how absolutely terrifying.

“I believe I heard someone mention headache tea?” Her Eminence said, smiling wearily, “It could not hurt.”

“I will bring some,” Lumira agreed, “And convince your guards to wait in the kitchen, Your Eminence, so you have fewer things to worry about, Eldest.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice less hoarse than it had been, at least.

“Yes, thank you,” Her Eminence echoed, adding, “It is known where I am – if anyone comes looking for me, could their presence be passed along?”

“Of course,” Lumira agreed, turning away and wondering if she could convince one of the guardsmen to wait in the main hall to serve as relay or if she would have to lurk there herself until someone else made it back from their missions. She would ask Maltin to manage it, but depending on who came looking for Her Eminence, the student might be overwhelmed, and he had already had a stressful few days.

“Her Eminence plans to remain here for the forseeable future,” she informed the soldiers, “To minimize risk, they ask that you wait indoors.”

They didn’t argue, so that was one issue taken care of. Now for the remaining Ari knew how many.

_“Well, looks like you’re right, Devin, being a mage does count as being Talented.”_

_“How many fish do you think we need to get Kari to take us on a Jump? Just a short one!”_

_“Does this mean we can say Her Eminence is an aunt?”_

_“NO!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! This one (and the next) have been a _beast_ to write, because there is SO MUCH that's trying to fit in, and it has been a _mess_ but I think I have at last gotten things smoothed out enough to carry on...
> 
> Random aside: Was thinking about FAB as I was driving and Jimmi Hendrix's "Let Me Stand Next to Your Fire" came on the radio and I thought about Kir in relation to that song and had to pull over I was laughing so hard. Just - just imagine.


	12. Testimonies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what you all need? 10K+ words for one never ending scene!
> 
> *shakes Anur by the collar* _DAMN IT ANUR_

Justicar Jeryl was a very efficient man, and watching him churn through writing sixteen identical sets of orders, sign and seal everything all while he briefed the veritable swarm of Sunsguard and acolytes set to be runners was, frankly, impressive. Anur had no real idea how he compared to the other First Order Justicars of Fourth Court, but he nonetheless didn’t doubt that they had lucked out in the Justicar who’d picked up this case.

Right now, the runners had been sent off on their missions and the office had gone from too crowded to breathe to only a little tight and they were listening to Garth Nolans give a detailed description of the incident he’d decided on regarding Darius Vars. By Maude’s grim but unsurprised expression, his sister had already heard about the events Garth had summarized with the crimes of extortion, murder, and, via hearsay and noting a woman’s disappearance, if not seeing her body himself, an additional murder.

The careful outline of exactly how he had collected the vanished woman’s report, warned her of the potential consequences of filing the report and raising a fuss over her husband’s disappearance, filed it on her behalf when she insisted regardless with all possible precautions taken only to find it was useless, the report was handed directly to Vars by the former Captain of the Outer Eighth to ‘investigate’, since it was _known_ that he had been involved in the ‘initial inquiries’ to the husband’s disappearance – it was appalling. It was horrifying to think of everything that the Oathbreaker and his associates had gotten away with over the years, and Anur wanted to ask why Garth Nolans hadn’t gone straight to the Courts himself, but unfortunately he knew that answer.

Two Sunsguard and one Justicar compromised in Fourth Court, according to the Oathbreaker – and who knew how many had been caught earlier in the year or transferred out at one point or another. That was one phrasing he would have to make sure Justicar Jeryl accounted for in his follow-up questions, the ‘willing co-conspirators’ phrasing he had used had likely only caught those who were _currently active_; any that had been lost in some way, be that transfer or death, would have escaped being listed. Not something to point out just now, but definitely something that would be needed going forward

He had thought that implementing the reforms’ new laws and following through on now-enforced ones was moving along nicely this year; perhaps it was, in the avenues he was consciously aware of. Hells, with literal centuries to overturn, things _were _moving along nicely. But that didn’t feel like enough – it _wasn’t _enough, even if it was all they could truly manage. Certainly all he and Kir could truly manage to keep track of; City Guard had never been something he was overly exposed to, even in Valdemar, and only three cities in Karse were large enough to _have _a chapter of Sunsguard separate from the bandit hunters and roving Justicars. Inquiring after City Guard specific issues hadn’t even occurred to him.

There was so much to do, still. It was literally impossible for himself and Kir – even for the whole of the Firestarting Order! – to be involved in every part of the ongoing and coming reforms. That didn’t make it any easier to hear about horrible people that had very nearly gone free, that _had _gone free for so very many years, and the innocents who suffered for it.

He was glad Kir wasn’t listening to this, was still focused on flammability mitigation. Hopefully Anur could get away with a less in-depth summary when it came time to fill Kir in on what he had missed, at least until he’d properly recovered from today’s disaster. His brother’s guilt-complex was far too well-developed and deeply ingrained.

His own was nothing to sneer at –

Kir had once admitted to him that he sometimes imagined he heard voices in fire, imagined that fire had feelings and thoughts and desires, rather than being simply something that _is_. Anur had admitted in the same conversation that Kir’s mental presence against his own felt like fire, crackling and warm. They had laughed about it, and Kir had wondered if perhaps they could use that to somehow let Anur hear fire as Kir did one day. With the revelation of sun-blessed steel singing, Anur had almost been hoping they would be able to manage something.

He had never wanted it to be permanent, though. To hear the roar of something like the Comb fire with anything other than his actual ears – it sounded like a nightmare waiting to happen. When he had dared to imagine it, to ask Kir what that sort of inferno ‘sounded’ like to his brother’s senses, he still doubted his ideas had gotten anywhere close.

The sudden flurry-spark-_roar_ of Kir’s mind against his was so _loud_.

“Bellamy?” Jaina’s voice echoed as if she were far away, but he felt a hand on his shoulder that was undoubtedly her. “Are you all right? Is something wrong with Kir?”

“He’s – back in the Hall. I think,” Anur managed, Aelius’ mental presence feeling shaken and blindsided too, so his Companion couldn’t help relay or interpret, “Backlash, from the fire suppression.”

_:Kir? Kari?:_

_:We are in the Hall’s courtyard,: _Kari relayed, sounding truly exhausted now, _:We are not more injured than we were. This is that backlash, as you guessed. I do not think I will be able to help the Captain tonight.:_

_:He has sun-blessed steel, and we might even be able to get him a shielded necklace of some sort as a stop-gap. He will be helped, Kari, even if he needs to wait another day,: _Anur assured him, feeling a guilty pang nonetheless because Captain Marghi had lived with this burden so long already, the thought of having to delay aid _hurt_.

_:We will get him help,: _Kir promised, voice barely audible as words over the deafening roar of fire, _:It just – might have to be delayed, as much as I hate that.:_

_:Can the healers get to you?: _Anur demanded, realizing he was on his knees and accepting Jaina’s aid getting to his feet, not objecting when she immediately started guiding him to a chair.

_:I don’t know,: _Kir admitted, _:Probably?:_

_:We can spare Hansa, if you need,: _Anur said, _:Remember, I can cast second stage truth spell and just need a decoy to point to.:_

_:We might have to – oh, Lumira is here. And Solaris?:_

_:Then we’ll wait on swapping Cats, but keep me posted. Healers need to get to you, Kir. That is non-negotiable.:_

_:Yes, yes, stop fussing.:_

_:I have not yet _begun _to fuss,: _Anur promised.

“That was similar, to when you said the trap sprang,” Nolans said, Anur twitching at the switch in mediums and huffing a laugh as he refocused on the room he was physically in.

“Not as bad,” Anur replied wryly, “I didn’t stop breathing this time. Apologies. I’m fine. It won’t happen again. Today, at least.”

“Your and Kir’s mental connection?” Jaina asked quietly, expression tight, “This is a side effect?”

“The only reason it happened is because of that connection, yes, but this is more – I could tell, when Kir was working to suppress flames,” Anur replied, keeping his voice low, as Jeryl was asking Garth a clarifying question. He hadn’t lost much time to whatever had happened, at least.

“It didn’t feel… right. I could tell it was a strain, a struggle. When the trap sprang, it was – overwhelmingly loud, I suppose is the best way to say it. Couldn’t figure out if I was the one hurt and with the breath knocked out of me or Kir was. This was more – that strained silence is gone, and _loudly_ so. _Abruptly_ so. Stunned, again, though not _confused_, not to the same degree. Kir is fine, Jaina.”

“I can worry about both of you, you realize,” she said tartly, “This more of a mental Talent thing or a joint Voice side effect?”

“The latter,” Anur admitted, grimacing, “Seras really didn’t mention anything to you?”

“Not to me,” Jaina confirmed, echoing his expression, “We’ll have to ask tonight. It’s certainly a consequence we’ll need to keep in mind if that Hunting Rite is ever to be used again.”

“There are side effects to the Rite beyond those called down on the target?” Justicar Jeryl inserted, Anur and Jaina swiveling to look at him. He was handing Garth Nolans his record of the man’s testimony for verification and a signature, but was watching the two of them.

“We don’t know,” Anur admitted freely, running a hand down his face, “It’s not – to be perfectly honest, Justicar, Kir reinvented the thing. He prefers to say he rediscovered it, but there are no records of the actual mechanics of the old version of the Rite that anyone has managed to find. There are references to its use, some sidelong references to what it can do or what materials are needed, but other than that? Nothing.”

“Oh I know,” the man replied, smiling wryly, “We Justicars study it as part of our training – “

He was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, Jaina going to open it after Jeryl nodded and stepping aside to let Justicar Mattis and two familiar Sunsguard step through, the Justicar looking properly furious and with no trace of the Kir-strength tea he had been carrying.

“All three are secured?” Jeryl asked, voice sharp.

“All three are secured,” Justicar Mattis confirmed through gritted teeth, “And _far _too many came to me afterwards to report coercion. Your squad with the other three for follow up questioning arrived and were dispersed per the usual, no reported difficulties, that black-robe that came with them is writing out his testimony. Have you questioned the Oathbreaker yet?”

“No, and won’t for some time, I have more testimonies to collect here,” Jeryl replied, eyes narrowing, “Do you need some information out of him urgently?”

“A list of all individuals involved in his schemings in Fourth Court, including those unwilling and including those no longer here – you prioritized willing conspirators, I agree with it, but we need additional information. Also a list of willing conspirators active in the other Courts, this is going to be a sector spanning _mess_, Jeryl and we need to get as many of his sort out of positions to take authority and silence witnesses. Also, this truth compulsion you mentioned, how long is it available?”

_:The remainder of today, certainly. Going forward we will have to limit it to designated marks,: _Hansa said.

Anur didn’t want to speak of it, but he remembered what Cristan had claimed to have found. He had no idea if whatever the man had found was actually a legitimate spell or not, if it worked even, but if it _did _work they way the madman had described it to Kir – it had sounded like a first stage truth spell that non-Heraldic mages could use.

“Either of you familiar with a rover named Cristan? Died a few years ago,” Anur asked, Jaina wincing as she walked back over, apparently remembering how that name had first come up, but both Justicars shook their heads, looking politely puzzled. Lieutenant Jergen, however, grimaced deeply, and they all caught it.

“Lieutenant Jergen?” Mattis prompted.

“I ran across him once, I believe, Your Holinesses, Lieutenant-Enforcer. He was… very inconsistent, in his methods.”

“He was insane,” Anur said flatly, glad he could press his hands against the arms of the chair Jaina had shoved him into, because otherwise they’d be shaking, “But he mentioned having a spell that would let him know if someone spoke the truth, though it did not compel speaking the truth, nor did it force the individual to speak. I never knowingly saw that spell in action, and we never found records of it when we looked. Not particularly thoroughly, I will admit, because the man did not exactly inspire confidence in his coherence. Do either of you know of such a spell?”

“Not a mage, no idea,” Justicar Mattis frowned, glancing Jeryl’s way, “Though I would think we would use it, if it existed.”

“Not if it had cost too heavy to allow,” Jeryl replied mildly, eyes tight, “You say this Cristan actually _used _it?”

“It exists?” Anur asked, feeling rather wary. He had apparently had that spell cast on him, after all, and from tone and phrasing… that spell was not one anyone sane would actually use.

“Oh it does,” Jeryl said, expression going truly grim now, “And repeated use splinters the caster’s mind. The way it works is by linking one mind to another, allowing the caster to sense that lie being told, but it doesn’t do it well or safely. Or if it ever did, the safeguards are long gone in the records I’m aware of. Once, even twice, perhaps. But he would be less able to feel that feedback, after repeated use. As he kept going, he would need stronger emotional reactions to register it as functional, and that is aside from the side-effects of having repeated interaction with another person’s mind without safeguards in place – which are dire, in and of themselves.”

_:…is this why people with powerful mental Talents are better at the Truth Spell?: _Anur asked, fascinated despite his own horror. Experiencing strong emotional reactions, yes, that was one way to describe torture victims.

_:Likely so. I suspect the spell was designed for exactly that skillset – mages with mind Talents,: _Aelius mused, _:We need a copy. We’ll have a Herald-Mage capable of testing it eventually. Healers have reached Kir, currently assessing.:_

“Not an option, then,” Mattis was saying, while Anur barely managed not to physically sigh in relief at Aelius’ news, “Disappointing, I suppose, but if I had found out there was a truth compulsion we weren’t using for some reason I didn’t agree with, I’d be even more furious, so fair enough. We’ll need to time things carefully.”

“The Oathbreaker didn’t hesitate to list out all his willing co-conspirators,” Jeryl pointed out, watching as Lieutenant Jergen and Patrolman Henkel hauled the man in question to his feet, “While verification under truth compulsion would only be sensible, for an initial emergency triage list, his initial response would at least get us started.”

_:The list for current in Fourth Court was short – has it been verified under truth compulsion?: _Aelius asked, _:If he gives the exact same list under truth compulsion as without they might not even need one for him. Confirmed no lung puncture or broken bones.:_

_:Thank the Sunlord, and a good question,: _Anur replied, relaying the suggestion and when it played out as hoped – the exact same list, the exact same _order _even, as the first time Jeryl had asked that question – he was entirely unsurprised by the intrigued expressions on both the Justicars’ faces.

“Incapable of lying, at least for the moment,” Mattis murmured, “I wonder – is that a consequence of Namelessness? Or the Rite you mentioned, Lieutenant-Enforcer? I assume they are distinct?”

“He was declared Nameless as part of the Rite, but you could have one without the other,” Anur replied, remembering Anika’s denunciations and determinedly not fretting over the fact Kir’s mental presence was still veering towards inferno even after the healers had apparently examined him, “As for the lack of lying, I have no idea. We only used the Rite once before, and the target was dead at the end of it. I think we questioned one of the Nameless in the other group though… yes, we did, but they were under truth compulsion at the time, we had no reason to ask without one.”

_:I see no reason why he would start being capable of lying again,: _Hansa broadcast, jumping up to sit on a cleared corner of Jeryl’s desk and glancing between the Justicars._ :Removing one’s name has a tendency to remove a sense of self – which removes self-preservation, self-interest – and without those, what reason would they have to lie?:_

“What?” Anur hissed, ignoring the startled looks sent his way, because _that_ was a side effect there had never been a _hint_ of, and he could already see so very many ways that sort of lack could go terribly wrong, “What do you mean, declaring one Nameless removes all sense of self – _including self-preservation_?”

_:Exactly that,: _Hansa said, head tilting to one side and to all appearances _confused_ as to why exactly Anur found that concept so very horrifying, _:They can no longer be named, and are no longer persons. Self-interest in various forms is the fundamental motivator for so very many actions, including lies. While he is physically and mentally _capable _of lying or hesitating over his words, he is no longer emotionally capable of doing so; he has no motivation for it.:_

“Nameless One ran,” Anur retorted.

_:But he did not try to conceal his path or cover his tracks – and he stopped for comfortable quarters, rather than riding through the night or leaving roads entirely as he should have, if truly escaping had been his intent, though I suppose he had no reason to truly think he had been caught unless he tried to introduce himself. It is intended to make them easier to find, frankly.:_

“And potentially reckless enough to slaughter a massive number of people in their immediate surroundings because they have an impulsive desire to and no reason to hold back any longer since consequences no longer _matter_ to them,” Anur said through gritted teeth, “Because someone with a _knife_ can do that in the right crowd, forget someone with _magic_. Are there any safeguards from _that_?”

At least now he wasn’t the only one looking horrified. Even Hansa had his ears flat against his skull, and the Justicars looked practically nauseous.

_:…I am uncertain,: _Hansa admitted finally.

“Well then, no one is using that Rite unless there is _literally_ no other option, there are _far _too many ways it can go terribly wrong,” Anur decided, remembering that one Levin-bolt this one had thrown, that _one_ attack that could so very easily have been scaled-up by someone with no sense of self-preservation, with no ability to think forward to consequences and plan out how to avoid them and having to choke down bile, because that could have gone _so wrong_ and he and Kir had never even _thought_ of that potential catastrophe, “Justicars, please, _please_ push that opinion with your colleagues and emphasize that the Rite is unpredictable and _dangerous_, we will do additional research and gladly keep you in the loop, but please emphasize to anyone reading your reports or hearing your verbal descriptions that this Rite is dangerous to the people who use it _and _random bystanders, please.”

“I will gladly do so – wait, I’m sorry, it is dangerous for the person calling it down as well?” Jeryl asked, looking more alarmed than grim now, “How so? The joint Voice manifestation you mentioned, but while that is certainly unheard of I wouldn’t think it would be harmful…”

“Kir and my version of consequences for users is complicated by other issues,” Anur brushed off any concerns about the joint Voice manifestation or the mental connection he and his brother shared. They would have to elaborate on it eventually, but it wasn’t germane now. What _was_, however, was the reason he called this Rite dangerous in the first place. Why Kir had never dared test it before it was truly, desperately needed to hunt down Nameless One.

“But for more general cases… Justicar, this Rite is a literal cry for judgment, and as Kir described those to me, you had best be damn certain in the claim you are making, certain enough to stake your own life and soul on it. There’s a _reason_ he reinvented the thing and never so much as _considered_ testing it out before it was well and truly needed.”

Jaina’s grip on his shoulder was practically bruising.

“Stake your own _life _and _soul_ on it?” Garth Nolans quoted, sounding horrified and stunned beyond measure, the Justicars looking more than a little pale themselves, “You – why would you – you _did _that. _Why_?”

“It needed to be done,” Anur said, meeting the man’s eyes as he said it.

“You only had my word for that,” he objected, voice faint.

Anur did not waver, because this was important, but he couldn’t quite help his smile.

“I _did_ tell you that your word would be enough,” he said, feeling almost whimsical, before continuing more briskly, “Besides, I had far more than your word. I had three enchanted bracelets, none of which were intended for innocent purposes, and I very deliberately worded my denunciations to target the crafter of said bracelets, rather than any named individual.”

“Usage of _threes_, oh Seras is going to be so furious he missed it,” Jaina murmured, releasing his shoulder and shaking her head.

“I – have additional questions, but they will wait,” Justicar Jeryl admitted, exchanging a speaking glance with Mattis.

“We’ll have to coordinate our list of questions,” the other Justicar said, sounding thoughtful, “For the moment, I’ll get started on this name gathering, perhaps get some initial questions asked of those reporting coercion if you haven’t shown up by the time I get the list written out.”

“My thanks, Mattis,” Jeryl said, the quartet leaving the office and Anur at least feeling immediately more at ease, with the Oathbreaker’s blankly staring visage absent.

Justicar Jeryl turned to him again, glancing between him and Jaina before finally speaking, very clearly choosing his words carefully, “While I agree with your hesitation over spreading the Rite’s implementation far and wide, people are going to hear of it. _Justicars_ are going to hear of it, and we _studied_ that Rite – as magecraft long lost, as something _we_ could reconstruct, if only someone had recorded the proper spells. You are going to have a line of Justicars wrapping the District knocking down your door for knowledge of that Rite.”

“Not helped at all by the persistent rumors that we had the Rite hoarded away in our Halls as some sort of ridiculous power play,” Jaina agreed grimly, “Fortunately Seras’ connections with the other archivists ensured those rumors started dying out, but this is going to start them up again.”

_:Of course it is,: _Anur thought sourly, mostly for lack of being able to express that sentiment aloud right now, no matter how badly he wanted to, _:And the ones who believe it most are going to be impossible to convince otherwise, damn it all.:_

_:We don’t need to convince the true believers, we need to convince the ones on the fence. Transparency, Chosen, just like with this investigation. Hmm. The Justicar is going to need your and Kir’s testimony, yes? Drag whichever of Solaris’ council is in charge of monitoring the Justicar side of things, have Ulrich and Seras sitting in as archivists, give them a chance to sit down with the pair of you as a group to go through what the Hunting Rite reconstruction is and how Kir went about rebuilding it. Kir?:_

_:I can manage that,: _Kir said wearily, though at least his mental presence was approaching house fire instead of crown fire inferno of death,_ :Etrius and Seras have been combing the books I named as references, they can help.:_

_:And we can distract them from the fact Etrius almost died,: _Aelius pointed out, _:Seras promising to ask before he murders anyone is all well and good, but his student was very nearly killed in some sort of power play scheme. He’s not going to be rational about it.:_

_:That would have been – so terrible. Fuck that can _still _be so terrible,: _Anur realized anew, able to imagine so very easily what Seras would have done if Etrius had been killed. What their Order would have been torn apart trying to manage, if Etrius had been killed, and if Rodri had died with him... a thousand blessings on Rodri’s pistachio incident, because Sunlord they would have _shattered_.

“ – will admit to asking Holiness Valerik about it after the first few times of working with him,” Jeryl was saying, huffing a laugh, “He laughed at me, said every Justicar he’d ever worked with asked him about it. When he spoke of it, it sounded as though he hardly believed it had _ever_ existed.”

“A common consensus,” Jaina said sardonically, before shooting Anur a truly amused look, “At least until you and Kir mentioned it. It took Seras well over a week to realize that Rite involving the Oathbreaker you two mentioned that first visit to Sunhame was potentially a version of the _Hunting_ Rite. I heard him swearing from the office.”

“He certainly seemed far more fanatical about our records in the later visits,” Anur replied, turning back to the Justicar and saying, “Right. You need to gather testimony from myself and Kir, as well as Jaina, correct?”

“Ah – yes. At some point. All the Firestarters involved, actually, at least in part.”

“Which would be literally all of them, at least in part,” Anur said wryly, “So perhaps bring an assistant or two. But – Jaina, is there any time within the Conclave that can be set aside for that testimony gathering?”

“Midafternoon to Descending are free tomorrow,” Jaina said, “That’s three marks. We could shave out some of the morning to give a solid four marks. Would that suit, Justicar?”

“Yes, quite well, thank you,” Jeryl said, scrawling a note to that effect off to one side, pausing mid word when Anur continued with the actual motivation for his self-evident statement.

“Make sure you _do _arrange assistants of some sort then, and if you cannot be spared from that effort, another ranking Justicar. We’ll have some of the archivists, Holiness Larschen and whatever Justicar you can spare to help figure out what coherent and relevant statement needs to be issued to the Justicars to explain the Rite’s reconstruction and potentially horrifying consequences.”

“Oh that’s definitely going to be me,” Jeryl muttered as he scrawled something to that effect down, probably not meaning to be heard.

Jaina was raising an eyebrow at him, but he raised one right back, because he had every right to make that call. If he and Kir sat down to explain the Rite to the Justicar tomorrow, everyone he intended to ensure was present was the sort of curious who would wade through raw sewage to be there, with the possible exception of Holiness Larschen. The man taught some of the Justicar focused courses in Sunhame, though, and from Jeryl and Mattis’ reaction to the whole thing, Anur rather doubted Larschen would be any less determined to hear what Kir had to say.

“That will work well, thank you, Lieutenant-Enforcer,” Jeryl said more clearly, visibly setting that matter aside before focusing on the Nolans siblings again, “My apologies for the diversions. Mistress Nolans, I have your brother’s most immediate relevant testimony, though not written just yet, and have many more questions for him and likely yourself as well as this investigation into the Oathbreaker and Vars’ affairs continue. For today, however, I will restrict my questions to the events of the last few days. One of those bracelets the Enforcer burned was the one placed on you?”

“Yes, Your Holiness. My brother told me last week that the Oathbreaker had tried to recruit him for a job and he had told the man to get lost, putting it politely, but two nights ago he showed up at our door regardless…”

Anur had heard Garth’s version of events, and while he was certain Maude’s would differ in some details, he doubted any truly new information would come up – at least, nothing truly new that Hansa or Justicar Jeryl wouldn’t catch on their own. He kept his gaze on the group, but focused on Aelius, prompting, _:You said the Healers saw Kir and no puncturing or broken bones, but what’s the rest?:_

_:They’ve confirmed that the only remaining damage is mental strain from his Talent usage and bruising – though some of the bruises are deep, none are life threatening. A healer was able to reduce some of the inflammation caused by said mental strain, and both request seeing him later, when he isn’t surrounded by fire and unable to control it entirely, to see what aid they can offer on those more minor injuries.:_

_:Thank the Sunlord,: _Anur replied, _:Now to make sure he actually takes advantage of that request.:_

_:For the record,: _Kir inserted, mental presence _finally_ getting back to the crackling warmth it should be, instead of strained, too taut silence or a deafening roar, _:I am not going to object. Though I suppose you’ll still insist on Healer Joss getting called in when we’re northwards again?:_

_:Yes, yes I will, because I actually know that Healer Joss knows what he’s doing. I have no idea what sort of training these Sunhame healers have, and besides that, Joss knows your medical history and the sorts of instructions he needs to give! These healers have no idea what our duties actually entail, they can’t frame post-injury care instructions properly,: _Anur retorted with none of the sharpness his reply could have held. He was too relieved that Kir was safe again, even though he did make a note of the fact Kir could apparently now overhear him and Aelius talking regardless of there being physical contact between any of them. Something to worry about later.

_:Fine, fine,: _Kir muttered, _:How is testimony gathering going?:_

_:Shouldn’t you be resting?: _Anur tried dodging.

_:I am resting. I’m in the courtyard of the Hall with Kari and Solaris, and she just finished dodging my utterly reasonable questions about what in the frosted hells is Grevenor’s problem. Anur it’s so _loud_.:_

_:Easy, all right,: _Anur murmured, wincing. He would bet that was due to backlash as well, even if he wasn’t perceiving any of what Kir was any longer. Kir had spent the past mark or so trying his damndest to keep everything utterly silent and still, at least as much as that was possible, whereas now he was doing none of that and fires were swarming – yes, Anur could imagine that to Kir’s mind, it was very loud. He wanted a distraction.

How fortunate. He had _so many_ distractions to choose from. Start with the basics, see how long he could stretch those, and hopefully he could avoid giving Kir any additional nightmare fuel just yet. That could wait until they talked in person.

_:We’ve sent messengers with explanations of what is going on to every Sector Station with instructions on where to forward testimonies from those the Oathbreaker held under some form of coercion, or any connected cases. Orders for Darius Vars’ arrest have also been issued, specifically to Seventh and Eighth Sectors, and there is mention of him in the orders for the others – something about a sketch or detailed description being necessary for the official warrants for those sectors. Three willing co-conspirators here in Fourth Court have been arrested and detained by another Justicar. Maude Nolans is here – Jaina is too, by the way – and Maude is currently giving her version of events in the past few days involving the Oathbreaker. Sounds like Jaina was in the middle of dismantling the groundwork spells on Maude when your half of the manifestation took care of things.:_

_:How dramatic,: _Kir said, sounding wry, _:Though I suppose Seras will be pleased to have a close-up perspective on hand.:_

_:He could probably write quite the sprawling case study on this, they’re going to be unraveling things for _moons_ at the very least – that Darius Vars I mentioned? Sounds like a piece of work, for one, and was formerly Garth Nolans’ Sergeant, the entire squad was dishonorably discharged before the formal rules and such came down. Nolans was his Corporal.:_

_:Sounds hellish in general, but for someone apparently moral? Even worse,: _Aelius murmured, tone sympathetic.

_:Definitely does,:_ Anur agreed, watching as Maude Nolans accepted the paper holding her own testimony for review, though she tilted it so her brother could read it over her shoulder.

_:True,: _Kir said, continuing _:You said the whole squad was discharged before the official guidelines came down?:_

_:Yes, the timing of which was apparently used by the former Captain of the Outer Eighth as a reason to deny Garth Nolans an appeal,: _Anur said, grimacing even as he said it because he could easily predict Kir’s reaction to _that _but he couldn’t avoid the question –

_:That. Is. Illegal.:_

Teeth-gritting fury, as expected.

_:I know,: _Anur said, feeling his own anger at that particular portion of the situation surge to the forefront, _:I know, Kir. He’s getting his appeal, Jeryl sounds positively gleeful about it, and we can set someone on reviewing all the discharges in the past year and confirming they weren’t denied the chance.:_

_:His reputation has been ruined!: _Kir raged, Anur hoping that if Kir was still in the Hall’s courtyard, someone was keeping an eye on things to know if Kari needed to drag him to the Trial room instead – or that Kir’s insistence that the Hall was more resistant than most buildings to fire was based on more than stories. _:Bad enough he actually _did _terrible things, that he was coerced, and blackmailed, and made into a monster. Forced to stand by and watch as others were molded into monsters. But to have a chance to speak out stolen from him? To have it denied, and undoubtedly have the word spread that he had never bothered to try and clear his name, that he had as good as confirmed his guilt, his wretchedness? That is against everything we ever - !:_

_:Kir! Kir, I _agree _with you. I agree with you. There will be an investigation into this, we will do what we can to ensure no one else fell into this trap, and he will have a chance to go forward, to truly go forward, without Vars and the Oathbreaker to drag him down. Kir, please. You see an echo of what the Firestarters are facing in his situation, and I see it too. I see it, Kir. I won’t let this be forgotten. I swear to you. Brother. You are hurting, you are exhausted. Please _rest_.:_

_:Sorry. Sorry, Anur, I – I am so tired right now. It’s so loud.:_

_:Well I need to pay attention to what we’re doing next. Will listening in on my work be enough of a distraction?: _Anur asked, _:Or do you need active conversation?:_

_:Can I even listen in that way?: _Kir asked, sounding dubious.

_:You responded to what I said to Aelius when neither of us were broadcasting it at all and we’re quite far apart, you very well might,: _Anur said, wanting to wince at the way Kir’s mind went quiet. Not _still_, not the way his fire suppression methods had made him quiet, but not comfortable. Not the usual.

_:You did say scar aggravation might change my Talent,: _Kir finally admitted, sounding intensely uncomfortable, _:I don’t want it to.:_

_:It might not be scar aggravation either,: _Aelius pointed out, _:You two just went through another joint Voice manifestation, and the first one was what started this whole permanent mental awareness of one another business in the first place, some sort of increase in awareness of one another might be due to that.:_

_:Sounds like we might need to do shielding modifications,: _Anur said ruefully, remembering something else and relaying, _:Jaina sounded very surprised by the joint Voice business, by the way. Seems Seras never mentioned it to her.:_

_:Likely wanted to wait to see what he could find in our archives. Might have found something and decided to wait for the Conclave to tell us, but the way our winter has gone, I doubt it,: _Kir replied dully, before detectably shaking off his mood with the utterly bizarre mental sensation Anur’s senses translated to a flurry of sparks and saying, _:Right. I will try and keep an ear out for you, Anur, because I _do _need the distraction, but if that isn’t sufficient – Aelius?:_

_:Oh I can most definitely handle distraction,: _Aelius promised, sounding gleeful, _:Has Anur ever told you about the time with the luminescent moss out by Rethwellen?:_

_:Not a word!:_

_:Well we can’t let that stand, do make sure I tell you about it _sometime_ this winter if we don’t get to it today.:_

_:You are both the worst,: _Anur said fondly, shaking his head slightly at the sheer glee both of his mental partners were radiating at the mention of that story and finally properly focusing on the rest of the room. Jaina was just finishing signing her own name to the record of Maude Nolans’ testimony, apparently as an additional witness that it was in fact accurate. He would have to ask someone for a general summary of Justicar policy, it was a definite gap in his and Kir’s knowledge.

“And I can collect your statement tomorrow, Holiness Jaina,” Jeryl reiterated, signing the papers himself and neatly stacking them together, gaze sweeping the room briefly before focusing on the Nolans siblings and saying, “Technically speaking, you two are both free to go, so long as you stop by Marya’s desk and declare an official time within the next three days where you will appear for follow up questions. _Practically_ speaking, Garth Nolans I would prefer you stay here, at least until I’ve completed a first round of questioning with the Oathbreaker. And if Vars is hauled in today I’d appreciate your assistance there as well. I want to have a reference I don’t need to trick answers out of for the initial charges.”

The siblings exchanged a long glance before Maude spoke, saying, “I will need to leave immediately then, and will set up a time to return, Your Holiness. Though I realize timing is dependent on whether or not Vars is caught today, would it be possible to have an estimate on when Garth would leave?”

“We are – have the bells for Sixth Day rung yet?” Jeryl asked the room, and by the way everyone stared back at him blankly, no one had been paying attention.

_:Not yet, Chosen. I’d guess we’re half till Sixth.: _

“Not yet,” Anur relayed, not passing on his Companion’s more specific guess. Making that estimate on his own wouldn’t be believable, especially not after that round of blank staring. Abruptly, their morning plan for the day flashed across his mind and he snorted, “So much for working on that golden fire with Maltin at Eighth.”

_:Cursed,: _Kir insisted.

_:Definitely not cursed,: _Anur retorted, though at this point it was only out of habit.

_:Cursed. Two against one, Chosen. Majority rules.:_

_:Excuse you, we are living in a _theocracy_. Majority doesn’t always win!:_

_:…the priest voted against you,: _Aelius said slowly.

_:…shut up,: _Anur grumbled, Kir and Aelius both _giggling_ at him, the bastards.

“…Perhaps next year we can have the Conclave out of Sunhame,” Jaina grimaced.

“I will back that proposal to the hilt,” Anur promised, “Kir will definitely agree. Right, apologies, Justicar. Time estimate?”

“I would say First Evening at the latest, for when you would be leaving Fourth Court,” Jeryl said, speaking directly to Garth but glancing his sister’s way as he continued, “Possibly earlier, but definitely by then.”

“That is fine with me,” Garth said, checking in with his sister and at her nod, asking, “You’ll be at the market till Second Eve unless you sell out of everything, right?”

“Right,” she confirmed.

“Then I’ll accompany you back to the market, Mistress Nolans,” Jaina said, drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair, “Then go to the Outer Eighth Sector Station and pass along the fact Val has been found, unless they’ve been informed of that in some other way?”

“Not consciously on my part, but they might have picked up on something,” Anur said after a few moments of thinking that over, “If you need me for anything or have something we should be aware of quickly, Kari relay should work.”

“Agreed,” Jaina said briskly, all of them rising to their feet, “You need to be back at the Hall by Descending at the latest.”

“Hopefully sooner, but understood,” Anur said, holding the door for both of the women and not seeing any sign of someone waiting for the Justicar, so he shut the door behind them and turned back to the remaining two, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the Justicar sitting down again and rummaging in his desk drawers.

“What comes next, Justicar?” he asked, feeling properly bemused when the man triumphantly pulled out a… bag of roasted pistachios.

“Pistachios,” Anur said, running a hand down his face and huffing a laugh, “Of all the nuts for you to store in your office.”

“Oh,” the man said, pausing in the middle of pouring pistachios into a bowl, “That – didn’t even occur to me. At least they have a relatively high value, selling the surplus pistachios that survived will help counteract the cost of damages.”

Handing the bowl to Garth Nolans, who took it with an amusingly excessive amount of care, Jeryl continued, “Help yourself, I just know that I haven’t eaten since early this morning and hearing more details of this case is going to make me angry enough without adding hunger to it. There’s water in the pitcher over there and cups in the cupboard under it, help yourself to that as well. Enforcer?”

“I’ll gladly take some, it’s just… ironic, as you said,” Anur said, taking a handful from the bowl Garth offered him, the man still looking blindsided by the offer of food.

“I will admit, I never knew pistachios were risky to the same degree as flour and sawdust,” Jeryl admitted, eating his pistachios straight out of the bag.

“Raw ones are,” Anur said, smiling wryly as he went to pour water for the three of them, “I had no idea either, not until this past summer. One of the students nearly got themselves seriously hurt because of raw pistachios in a closed container. That incident prompted more intentional training on detecting flammability of nearby objects, and is likely the only reason the student in question noticed anything wrong at the charity temple today.”

“At least my desk isn’t at increased risk of catching on fire,” the Justicar muttered, accepting the cup of water Anur offered him with a murmur of thanks, Garth Nolans doing the same and actually drinking some.

“I would think your papers are more risky than your snacks,” Anur said dryly, shrugging as he went back for his own cup and took a seat again, “Where are we at for our next steps, Justicar?”

“Currently there are seven people waiting for interrogation, ideally under some form of truth compulsion,” Jeryl said, grimacing and admitting, “The Oathbreaker will undoubtedly take the longest. Do any of you have any insights or opinions on what order they should be questioned?”

“The other three you had brought here – all of those were the potential dodging of the truth compulsion?” Anur asked, wanting clarification before he offered any opinion.

“Ah, no. The priest was; the two staff members said they reported unusual storage methods and items in the storeroom and were assured it was known and a non-issue,” Jeryl said, looking thoughtful, “I suppose I can delegate their testimony, I simply wanted more details.”

“I am wary of leaving the Oathbreaker’s co-conspirators to escape,” Anur admitted, “If Justicar Mattis hasn’t finished collecting that list yet, perhaps we could start there? The priest from the temple you want to question might very well _be _on that list, which would form the questions you want to ask. You can always come back to the Oathbreaker later for follow up questions.”

“The Oathbreaker had lots of connections, from what I understood,” Garth Nolans added quietly, “And there were always multiple ways he or his allies could win. If I may, Your Holiness, Lieutenant-Enforcer, I would also recommend interrogating the Oathbreaker as quickly as possible, at least with respect to a list of names and his desired outcomes from this plot for immediate countering, and returning later for other questions.”

“Fair assessments, both,” Jeryl agreed, frowning as he put his pistachios away, “I will have to send one of the other Justicars to the priest, there’s a strong tendency to try and barrel through the Sunsguard if they wait too long. Very well – Master Nolans, depending on the Oathbreaker’s reaction to you, I may ask that you remain outside for gathering his testimony. Otherwise, you are welcome to listen.”

“However I can assist, Your Holiness,” Nolans replied, a polite phrase that was nonetheless honest, if Anur was any judge. The man had gone from a grim weariness bordering on exhausted despair to a cold determination to see things through that Anur recognized rather well after all these years at Kir’s side.

Nolans, he suspected, would consider himself satisfied if Vars and the Oathbreaker were brought down with as many of their co-conspirators as possible, regardless of how his appeal worked out with respect to his own prospects. Anur would have to keep a hand in, at least enough to hear how things worked out for Nolans. The Firestarting Order owed him a debt, after all.

_:We’ll add it to the list,: _Kir promised.

_:Someone with hands needs to start writing this list down, it’s quite long,: _Aelius said tartly.

Jeryl gathered a few loosely bound stacks of blank paper and some double-quill pens, Anur holding the door open again but when he shut it, Jeryl turned back and did some sort of spellwork to secure it. Only then did he lead the way back down the three flights of stairs. He led them right past the front desk, where Holiness Marya was supervising a set of acolytes writing out something, and through the same doorway she had stepped through earlier – apparently it was a gathering space for lower ranked Justicars and some Sunsguard.

One younger Justicar immediately stood on seeing them, hustling forward and murmuring an update to Jeryl. Anur could catch the gist of it – sounded as though Mattis was still collecting that list of names from the Oathbreaker, another set of Justicars were taking down statements from everyone claiming they had been coerced in some way, and no word yet from the northern charity complex or regarding Darius Vars. None of the three waiting to be questioned had been approached, but all were in secure witness rooms of what sounded like varying levels of comfort.

Justicar Jeryl took all of that in with a noncommittal hum, scanned the room once, and started snapping off orders. Watching the way the entire room shifted to accommodate his authority and hearing how those orders were handed out was a rather fascinating experience. He had seen similar acts from Kir, of course, though mostly towards Sunsguard rather than other priests, and even towards civilians in emergencies – but between priests he had never seen such an unquestioning and _demanding _exercise of authority. Kir had a tendency to word his orders as requests unless he had to, and seldom opened with orders unless it was urgent or he was trying to intimidate someone.

It would be interesting to see if that changed over time or not; he suspected a lot of it was simply Kir’s habit of using his authority as little as possible, cultivated over years of trying to minimize his perceived threat level to the men of the 62nd.

One priest – Second Order, visibly older but not elderly and with a habitually stern set to his features, sent to sit on the charity temple priest they were leaving for later, whose name Anur honestly couldn’t recall. A Second Order and acolyte pair sent to gather testimony from the two staff members, both of whom had expressions on the milder side – likely more reassuring and less frightening than some of the other candidates would be.

The Third Order Justicar who had summarized things for them in the first place was set back to ensuring all reports from Jeryl’s varied and widespread subordinates were placed together as relevant to one particularly complicated case rather than scattered as individual records, with an acolyte assigned to assist. They were both assured that if something urgent came up, they could of course bring it to Jeryl directly though there may be a delay. Finally, three acolytes were added to their party to serve as general errand runners within Fourth Court, seeing as these interrogations might result in immediately actionable items.

Of course, watching everyone’s eyes bounce between himself, Garth Nolans and Honored Hansa, apparently uncertain just who they should be staring at incredulously, was also highly entertaining, if not something he would call fascinating.

Down a short set of stairs and another corridor to a set of rooms evidently secured specifically for mages, with Patrolman Henkel and an unfamiliar man of the same rank guarding the half-open door, the Lieutenant and Justicar Mattis inside with the Oathbreaker, who was bound to a chair on one side of a table. Mattis looked up at their approach and grimaced, rising to his feet and stepping out of the room, pulling the door mostly shut behind him.

“How bad?” Jeryl asked grimly.

“Would you like the whole list? It is very, _very_ long. Fortunately, I had the presence mind to ask for the list broken down by sector,” Mattis said flatly, rubbing his face, “Had one uncoerced co-conspirator in the charity temple, Lieutenant Jergen says it’s the one you hauled in.”

“Good to know,” Jeryl said, glancing at the acolytes, “One of you go and inform Justicar Miles of that.”

“He is also slightly less horrifyingly catatonic, but still shows no hesitation at answering questions. His tone is more animated, however,” Mattis continued, heaving a sigh as they watched the acolyte leave, “Do you want me to keep going with the list or go elsewhere?”

“What sectors have you gotten through? And what was your exact wording?”

“One through Six, the charity temples, all four Courts. I asked for the name and, if applicable, current job title of every individual who has ever actively and willingly worked with or for him in whichever zone I was on at the time,” Mattis replied.

“I’ll focus my questions on this particular scheme, leave the more general listings to you,” Jeryl decided, “While I get my first round of questions answered, I need you to start prioritizing who we arrest and in what order out of the names you have. I’ll send a runner to you once I’ve wrapped up so you can come back and get the rest of the names.”

“Understood,” he said, “I’ll go to my office for that – get a copy or two of the names you get, I’ll cross reference them with my own list to form a queue.”

The two Justicars exchanged nods and Mattis stalked off, papers filled with names clenched tightly in his hands, while Jeryl nudged the door fully open and led them inside. Anur shut the door behind him and Garth, the remaining acolytes already seated on a bench along the far wall, apparently well used to waiting.

All of the furniture bar the Oathbreaker’s chair was decidedly flimsy, evidently in case someone managed to try and use them as weapons. It was always interesting to see what choices or combination of choices were made there – sturdy and anchored to the floor, or lightweight and shoddily built? Here the verdict had apparently been sturdy and anchored for the chair the prisoner was bound to, and lightweight for everything else. There were a few high, narrow windows of thick glass with bars on the outside, by the shadows, and the remaining light was from anchored mage-lights embedded in the walls, rather than any sort of fire. That choice, at least, was one unavailable to Valdemar.

The Oathbreaker _did_ seem a little less catatonic, actually looking over when they walked in, but his expression was still disturbingly blank, eyes dull, and not _saying_ anything.

Nolans’ hands were locked behind his back, and even with the Oathbreaker clearly incapable of the taunts and mudslinging the man had undoubtedly anticipated, if not expected, his knuckles were white. Anur would keep an eye on him, and recommend that he not be brought along to the Oathbreaker’s longer interrogation. If Jeryl truly needed his insight, he could listen in from a nearby room, out of sight, or could be brought in for only a few moments to elicit whatever response was needed. Making him sit through all of the Oathbreaker’s undoubtedly extensive questioning would be needlessly cruel.

“As you are now lacking a name, you will be referred to as Oathbreaker for the duration of your questioning,” Jeryl said briskly, sitting down with his notepads and doubled-quill pens, rather than the more valuable glass pen he had used in his office. Those were often messier, why had he switched?

_:Deny a potential weapon, also avoid breaking something expensive,: _Aelius pointed out quietly, _:Probably policy for any interrogations outside their offices.:_

_:Ah. Fair point,: _Anur acknowledged, staying near the wall behind Justicar Jeryl with Nolans, while Hansa sat at the Justicar’s side and Lieutenant Jergen meandered his way to one of the corners behind the Oathbreaker, visibly settling in for a long wait.

“This is an initial questioning on matters deemed most urgent, and you will be placed under a truth compulsion. Honored Hansa?” Justicar Jeryl prompted, evidently deciding better safe than sorry, even after their earlier test.

_:He is under Tell Me True,: _Hansa reported.

“State your former position in the priesthood,” Jeryl ordered.

“Second in command of the Outer Eighth charity temple, black robe mage, Second Order,” the man said, tone completely flat.

“Former position can be stated, that is helpful,” the Justicar murmured, scrawling a note to that effect on his notepad, “State the full name and, if applicable, the job, of every individual who willingly assisted you, free of coercion, with your scheme regarding the volatiles under the Outer Eighth charity temple.”

The list was depressingly long, and included the oft-mentioned Darius Vars, and by the faint tremors running through Nolans, some of those names were surprises to him. Finagling out details of those who had been coerced would have to wait, and Anur was willing to bet this man would be living in a cell for _weeks_ answering every possible question, especially now that they had some confirmation of Hansa’s theory that a Nameless one could no longer lie.

“Describe your preferred outcome for the scheme regarding volatiles under the Outer Eighth Charity temple,” Jeryl asked, after filling nearly a whole page with names and job titles.

“At least six children dead, Etrius and anyone he dragged along dead or crippled. Total destruction of the kitchen and dining hall, partial destruction of housing. Some buried by rubble but alive and suffering. Investigators would find traces of Firestarter Valerik’s magical signature from his destroyed foci and demand he present himself for questioning and he would be reported missing.

“His subsidiary identity as Val would be revealed, word sent to the Sector Stations. Witnesses would report seeing Garth Nolans and Val walking together and entering the underlevels. The Firestarting Order would be divided on whether or not he was innocent, and at the very least distracted by the death or crippling of their students. Temple District politics would pick up. I would insist Valerik would never do such a thing before admitting I had given him access to the wards years ago as a favor. He would be found unconscious by the docks by others, and if he survived to be brought into custody he would undoubtedly insist on his innocence.

“Garth Nolans would disappear. I would insist Vars kill him after a week if he wasn’t dead already, and have his corpse marked with severe burns before dumping it. Maude Nolans would raise a fuss over her brother’s disappearance; after enough fuss was raised, I would kill her myself or tell Vars to deal with her.”

Nolans was visibly unsurprised, and if Anur was standing any further away he would have no way of knowing the man was shaking. If Anur didn’t have training as a Mindspeaker, and specifically, Aelius’ instructions on detecting when nearby minds were agitated regardless of said minds’ Talents, he would have no way of knowing the man’s mind was _screaming_. The Oathbreaker was showing no recognition of Nolans even being here, and Jeryl’s notes were undoubtedly thorough. There was no need to force the man to listen to all the ways he and his sister could have died.

Leaving half an ear out for the Oathbreaker’s continued recitation of his plan, horrifyingly layered as it was, he shifted so he was blocking Nolan’s view of the Oathbreaker and waited for Nolan’s gaze to stop staring through him and actually register his presence.

“You need to breathe,” he murmured, feeling his eyes tighten as he registered the Oathbreaker’s careful delineation of all the factions of the priesthood he hoped would have taken advantage of this scheme, and how very many of them would certainly grab support from priests and priestesses who genuinely supported Solaris, but thought the Firestarters were evil and wretched and wrong. Thought they had escaped rightful punishment for their actions, and it was their job to ensure the Firestarters were disciplined, if not destroyed.

If this plot had come to fruition with Fredric Loshern in Sunhame, Anur didn’t doubt for a moment that he would be one of the ones throwing his weight behind those cries. If that tension between Grevenor and Henrik was anything besides personal, he suspected even Solaris’ Council would have ended up divided.

Kir had wanted him to serve as the Order’s witness to the investigation instead of any of the Firestarters because he was an Enforcer and therefore less fearsome to those who only saw uniforms, and because he spoke with Kir’s voice and had little to no compunctions about calling priests of all sorts of rank to task for their actions. The fact that a Firestarter hearing this would _recognize_ some names the Oathbreaker was now giving of those priests and priestesses he _knew _would take advantage of his scheme, would recognize some of those names as colleagues, as friendly acquaintances or even _friends_, had likely not been a conscious consideration. Certainly it hadn’t been one for him.

But it was an undoubted benefit.

“It hasn’t happened,” he said quietly, Nolans’ now-actually-happening breathing distinctly ragged, “It _won’t _happen. Do you want to leave? There are chairs in the corridor, you can wait this out.”

A few longer breaths, attempts at answering that were choked off, before finally the man nodded. Anur gave the others in the room a quick glance, but neither of the men nor Hansa showed any sign of objection. He caught Lieutenant Jergen’s eye, noted the man’s grim expression, jerked his head towards the door and didn’t say anything further when the Lieutenant nodded, undoubtedly having seen and probably heard everything.

_:Kari, tell Jaina that Maude Nolans might be at risk still, as the Oathbreaker’s plan included either killing her himself or sending Vars after her,: _Anur said, opening the door and pushing Nolans out ahead of him, the soldiers at the door taking one look at their faces and grimacing.

“One of those interrogations, great,” Henkel said, watching Nolans slump in a chair and bury his face in his hands, the two acolytes still waiting for their orders eyeing the man with half-fascinated sympathy.

“Questioning him thoroughly is going to take _moons_,” Anur muttered, squeezing Nolans’ shoulder and saying, “You going to be all right here?”

“I’ll be fine,” the man managed.

“Sent word to Jaina about what he said, she’ll keep an eye out,” Anur assured him, feeling some of the other man’s tension leave and nodding to himself before heading back into the cell. He’d keep more conscious attention on the sound levels in the hall in case Nolans needed some sort of backup, but he had been sent here as a witness – he could hardly leave the Oathbreaker’s testimony half-heard, appalling as it was.

_“This joint Voice manifestation business sounds… rather worrying, to be honest.”_

_“The whole Rite sounds worrying, no one seems to _know_ anything about it.”_

_“Let’s focus on important things here – where is next year’s Conclave going to be?”_

_“Battlefield in the middle of Hardorn.”_

_“…I was hoping for a more lighthearted answer, Lukas.”_

_“Have you been listening to the same letter as the rest of us?!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested, I actually sat down and figured out City Guard ranking systems. Have I figured out ranking systems for banditry units? Not... exactly...
> 
> Patrolman -> Senior Patrolman -> Corporal -> Sergeant -> Leiutenant -> Senior Lieutenant (all Shift Leads have this rank, not all Snr Lts are shift leads) -> Captain
> 
> Idea is that each Lieutenant has a set of squads assigned to them, each squad as a Sergeant and a Corporal as their leaders, with assorted numbers of Patrolman and Senior Patrolman (like... four/five total counting both ranks? IDK not that big though). The Lieutenants and Senior Lieutenants have fixed shifts long-term. They can get switched around, but not month to month even, more like every half year, if that. Sergeant led squads are fixed, and move around to various shifts on a less long-term basis, though there is a tendency to keep them in the same little rota of shift schedules.
> 
> Will this maybe come up in story? Maybe. Very maybe. Is it particularly important? No, not really. But I spent time on it, and thought people might be curious, so here you go!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! It was, as most chapters in this saga, a beast.


	13. Echoed Damnations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEAD'S UP!
> 
> This chapter features the _utterly creeptastic_ Darius Vars. Writing his dialogue was _skin-crawlingly awful_. Also, with his former job, discussion of and reference to police brutality and corruption is a major element of this chapter, which given current events, seemed worth offering a heads up about. Unsure if it's something to tag or how to tag it beyond the already existing set of tags, so chapter specific heads up it is.
> 
> ALSO! We spent more time in Marghi's head, with some suicidal inclinations literally carved into his brain, so. There's also that.

_Forty-five. Forty-six. Forty-seven. Olya and Rodri led. Svon’s there. That’s everyone,_ Etrius realized, glancing at Sable and murmuring, “You get the right count?”

“Forty-seven children, three total staff, two priests-in-training,” Sable recited, having definitely been reciting that as an under-her-breath mantra as they walked, her shoulders easing, “That’s all of them. Do we follow or are we splitting up at this point?”

“Neither,” he heard, giving a relieved sigh as he turned to face Father Seras. He hadn’t known for certain who was going where, but had hoped his mentor would be the one to meet them. Mostly he had hoped his mentor wasn’t involved in the trap dismantling process, but he would never admit that out loud. Not when Rodri’s mentor was smack in the middle of it and utterly irreplaceable to the endeavor.

“Father Seras,” Etrius said, stepping into his mentor’s fierce hug and completely unashamed to return it, “I am so glad you’re here.”

“As if I would let anyone else take this job,” Father Seras scoffed, stepping back and tucking his hands back into his sleeves, entirely professional once again, “Obric is explaining what is happening to them, I’m certain you can receive a briefing on fallout duties later, Mistress Sable, but a Fourth Court Justicar arrived just before you did and wishes to get your testimony before any of you hear things you don’t already know.”

Rodri jogged over in time to hear that last bit, having been helping carry some of the younger children who’d grown tired en route, and hesitated visibly before asking, “Can we know if anyone got hurt?”

“No one died,” Seras assured him sympathetically, “Or is badly injured. I’m certain there are bruises and the like, but nothing terrible. I’m sure Kari can give a more detailed update once you’ve given your statement.”

“Okay,” Rodri whispered, still looking more anxious than relieved. Etrius couldn’t blame him, ‘nothing terrible’ was a very flexible descriptor.

Father Seras nodded shortly and turned on his heel, Etrius quickly nudging Sable and she let go of his arm and followed on Father Seras’ heels, letting him wrap an arm around Rodri’s shoulders and tug him along in their wake. No fire was flickering at Rodri’s fingers yet, but Etrius had no doubt that if they had been in the Hall, Rodri would have a small flame dancing in his palm. Instead he was worrying at the sun-blessed steel arrowhead bracelet Etrius had honestly never seen Rodri without after the Eldest had gifted it to him.

“We can ask Kari anyway,” Etrius murmured, “All you have to do is say you asked on the way here. Say you asked privately, I’d never have known.”

Rodri visibly hesitated, looking sorely tempted before shaking his head, saying quietly, “I can wait. But thanks, Etrius.”

“You can change your mind at any time,” Etrius assured him.

“I’ll be fine Etrius. But thanks,” Rodri repeated, hooking an arm around his waist in a sideways embrace before stepping forward and out from under Etrius’ arm, just in time for them to reach the office that the Justicar had evidently taken over.

A Sunsguard Patrolman was standing at the door, and had already knocked and relayed their presence by the time they reached it, holding the door open for them. They all gave the usual polite nod or murmur of thanks when they slipped past, and the Justicar was standing when they filed in.

“Justicar Alfrid,” Father Seras greeted politely, “My student Etrius, Firestarting Acolyte, Rodri, a Firestarting Initiate, and Mistress Sable, an employee at the southern charity temple.”

“Excellent, thank you, Holiness Seras,” the man replied, gaze sweeping the three of them and speaking to them directly when he continued, “I would prefer to take statements and ask clarifying questions of each of you individually. You are entitled to a trusted adult witness to said questioning, though I would prefer someone who is currently in this temple complex for timeliness’ sake.”

“Father Seras would be fine for me,” Rodri said, Etrius nodding sharply in agreement. He hadn’t wanted to speak first, mostly to avoid pressuring Rodri or Sable into agreeing to Father Seras being their witness for sheer convenience.

“Mistress Sable, we can postpone your questioning until another staff member is available…” the Justicar trailed off when Sable shook her head.

“I am familiar with Holiness Seras, he will suffice for myself as well,” Sable informed him. No one looked particularly surprised, though one of the Sunsguard did raise an eyebrow. Etrius wasn’t surprised at all, though saying Father Seras and Sable were familiar with one another was a bit of an exaggeration – he told Sable everything, and Father Seras knew Sable was his best friend. Father Seras would rather gut himself than let her come to harm for that connection alone, and Sable had at least some understanding of how very fiercely Father Seras defended him from any sort of harm.

“Excellent news, my thanks,” the Justicar said politely, “I would ask that each of you refrain from discussing your testimony amongst one another, and after we have each spoken, I will do my best to explain what we know so far – and Patrolman Segil was witness to part of the aftermath at the charity temple, and will also summarize what he knows.”

They all gave polite thanks in reply, and when the Justicar took a seat, waving to an empty chair and prompting, “Whichever of you would prefer to go first,” Etrius stepped forward with no hesitation. He wanted to get a feel for the man before letting him question Sable and Rodri.

Those two were ushered back into the hall by the Sunsguard and the Patrolman remained inside the office, shutting the door behind them. Five bodies made the room feel a little cramped, and the decision for the Sunsguard to remain was odd, in Etrius’ mind, but it did mean that if there was a problem to deal with he’d potentially have a chance to warn at least one of them without tipping the Justicar off. He waited for the Justicar to give him a nod, pen at the ready, and then began.

Describing what he had seen in the temple itself took hardly any time at all, everything there had happened so quickly. Rodri had pulled him aside before they could get much further than the main entrance, and Etrius had promptly taken him to Sable, who had listened without any doubt and shown them to the storage room that was the entire problem. Then they had scrambled to get away and call for help, and they had been given their marching orders.

The Justicar asked about what they had seen and noted en route, so Etrius explained the rumors they’d started hearing on the way here. They had been halfway here before he’d truly noted anything; he had been in the middle of another round of his mental list of who could possibly have the means and motive for doing something like this when his line of thought had stuttered over a name and Rodri’s head had snapped around to stare at a woman none of them had ever seen before – and then she was suddenly awash with golden sparks, sobbing in relief when whatever it was was over. _They_ hadn’t stopped to ask, but others nearby had and by the rumors he’d subsequently kept his ears pricked for and the name he could no longer say or even _think_…

Justicar Alfrid cast Father Seras a wry look when Etrius finished, commenting, “Scholar trained, yes? It shows. You are correct, Acolyte Etrius. The one once called Bertrand is certainly responsible for a lot of this, though the exact details of who assisted and under what circumstance remains open. It is my understanding he has been declared well and truly Nameless, to the point I cannot even write his name without some disclaimer phrase to preface it.”

Etrius could feel his mental tally of questions practically explode with the implications of that – how had he been declared Nameless? Had the Hunting Rite been involved? Who had conducted the Rite, surely not the Eldest, he was needed for flame mitigation –

Those questions would have to wait. He stood, offered a slight bow as was proper for an acolyte to a ranked priest, then stepped through the door the Sunsguard Patrolman opened.

Sable immediately stood and swept past him, which he understood. Rodri was the youngest, and if he had needed to offer any warnings about this Justicar’s attitude, Rodri was the one in the most need of the heads up. Since that was unneeded, the fact that this would give him some time to breathe and process before conferring with Sable was very welcome.

It had been the Oathbreaker to suggest he consider the priesthood. A path that would let him learn more, let him _read _more. He had known better than to feel indebted to the man even then, because having properly recorded debts was one thing, _feeling_ indebted was entirely another, but he had given the man sincere thanks eventually. Had answered his questions as to how his studies were going. The Nameless had never outright asked him anything about the Firetarting Order or even any of their members, but he _had _mentioned being familiar with Holiness Valerik with the implication that familiarity was friendly…

Etrius was going to be obsessing over every word he’d ever exchanged with the man for moons. Had there been any hint? If he hadn’t invited Rodri to accompany him this winter – if Rodri hadn’t accepted, had decided that after yesterday’s drama he didn’t want to deal with a swarm of strangers –

Dropping down to the nearest bench and burying his face in his hands, he spared a moment to give a more thoughtful prayer of thanks that Sable had agreed to have Father Seras serve as her adult witness. It let Etrius feel safer, knowing as he did that Father Seras would be far more protective of her than anyone would guess, but it also meant Etrius could have these moments to look as distressed as he liked.

Father Seras would take any sign of Etrius’ distress very personally indeed, after all, and while most days he appreciated how much his mentor cared about his well being, knowing how far Father Seras was willing to go in his defense made expressing distress something he had to be careful about. Right now, after recounting what the morning had been and finally realizing just how many ways things could have gone wrong, he was too upset to be careful.

“Etrius? Mind if I sit next to you?”

He didn’t look up at Rodri’s question, just nodding. Rodri evidently saw the gesture, obscured though it likely was, and by the sounds immediately turned from the window he’d been staring out of and came over, settling on the bench next to him and scooting close enough their sides pressed against each other.

“Are you going to be okay?” Rodri asked quietly.

“I’ll be fine,” Etrius managed, voice muffled, “I just – Rodri we almost died. So many people almost died. I didn’t trust him but I didn’t _not _trust him if that makes any sense.”

“Course it does,” Rodri agreed, “I didn’t know Holiness Loshern enough to trust him, but I didn’t not trust him, and apparently he wants all of us dead too. And now this… Oathbreaker? Sounds like he was a priest?”

“Now Nameless, yes,” Etrius said, wincing at the reminder of Loshern’s opinions. That had been a mess, and one he had needed to help deal with since Kavrick was less than able to support Maltin at the time. Oh he’d have managed, but it would have been unkind to make him, and Etrius rather doubted Father Kavrick even realized how attached his student had gotten to the exorcist in the few visits they had managed before it all went up in smoke.

“Huh. Wonder if they used the Hunting Rite or if it was just a denunciation like Honorable Anika,” Rodri said thoughtfully, Etrius immediately feeling a surge of interest at that thought – he had forgotten about Honorable Anika’s precedent for a lay-person declaring Namelessness, that opened up a whole _host _of possibilities.

“The golden sparks seemed to be involved,” Etrius said, finally lifting his head from his hands and glancing Rodri’s way, asking thoughtfully, “You looked at that woman before I saw any sparks. Did you feel something?”

“The song from my arrowhead changed, there was an echo,” Rodri said, wrinkling his nose, “It was very strange sounding. Even when there are a lot of individual arrowheads around it doesn’t sound like an echo, they’re all distinct.”

“Huh,” Etrius said, wondering about that. Wondering about a lot of things, but sun-blessed steel and its connection to sacred fire and Vanya Flamesinger and so very much of their history and their future was at least _fun_ and not him contemplating all the people who wanted the Firestarters dead and ashes for all sorts of reasons.

Dead people were easy to forget. It was unfair for people to consider Firestarters a symbol of the old regime and everything that was wrong with it because all things told they had been a relatively _small_ part of what was wrong with it. A very dramatic part, a very horrifying part, something of a capstone even, but a small part. But that symbolism went both ways – if they were a symbol of what had gone wrong, then they were a _reminder_ of what had gone wrong. Of what could go wrong _again_ if people weren’t careful and deliberate with the changes they were making.

How easy would it be, to let people forget how bad things had gotten before the reforms? If the Firestarters were _gone_, not _reformed_, then how could anyone ever think that the current regime was even remotely related to the old one, no matter how strange and twisted their path became? They had no Firestarters after all. They had no child-burners. They were so very different. So very much better.

Kill the Firestarters. Remove as many traces of them from history as you could manage. Let them be forgotten as anything but monsters, and within a few generations Karse would have White Demons to the north and Fire Demons from within, and so long as one was not either of them, one would be fine.

Such a _broad_ definition of fine.

“Rodri, is there any restriction on how much Sun-blessed steel can be made in one go? Besides the literal physical limitations of how many arrowheads one can make at once, I mean. Is there some sort of cap from the blessing process?”

“I have no idea,” Rodri admitted, “But I don’t think so. Axeli’s arrow molds hold twenty-eight at a time and we made one mold, and then a set of molded spearheads and Anika Brersi’s spear the next day. But I think the ritual could be stretched for longer and make more than one mold – I’ve helped Axeli make arrowheads before he has five molds he can use in one round of smelting, it wouldn’t take much longer than the ritual currently is. Why?”

“Something Tristan and I were thinking about,” Etrius shrugged, expecting the startled look on Rodri’s face at that name. Tristan and Colbern’s terrible relationship was practically the first thing any Firestarter student learned about the Order, both because it was horribly obvious and because no one wanted to see an innocent mistake ignite a whole new nightmare. But that meant everyone was well aware of the fact that since Seras and Colbern were good friends, which left Etrius and Colbern somewhat associated and even friendly, Etrius and _Tristan_ really didn’t talk much, if at all. Few opportunities to, no real inclination to change that.

But he was going to be ordained in the next couple of years, and that meant the Third Order Trial, and _that_ meant Ari’s Tongue in addition to his control of fire. Tristan and Colbern were the best at Ari’s Tongue in the Order and the only reason Colbern was so good was because Tristan had been his student, so Etrius had decided to go to the source for the extra practice he wanted. Finding something to talk about that was complex enough to be challenging and relevant enough to what Etrius usually talked about to be useful yet _not _something that would spark any true arguments had been difficult, but discussing how the crimes of the previous regime would be remembered and should be remembered had been one of the better ones.

“He has some excellent ideas about the staying power of memory,” Etrius said, glancing at Rodri sidelong and admitting, “I think it’s because of his experience in the catacombs. There are a lot of forgotten corners, and a lot of remembered ones. Seeing what the difference is – it gives him insight a lot of people don’t have.”

“I thought he hated the catacombs,” Rodri said slowly.

“That would be _because_ of his experiences in the catacombs,” Etrius shook his head, “I don’t know details, and I won’t ask. But he does hate them, and he also knows them better than anyone I’ve ever spoken to. Anyway. Staying power of memory. Books and records can be burned, obviously. Hidden too, but then they can be lost or damaged with water or any one of a hundred things. Objects are harder. _Metal_ is harder. It can be melted down, of course, and stonework can be broken, but it is more effort. It is not _easy_.”

“So you were thinking some sort of monument? Or memorial? And somehow maybe sun-blessed steel could be involved?”

“It was a thought,” Etrius shrugged, “I think Tristan is going to bring it up in the Conclave’s future projects section. He had some more coherent ideas than I did. One of the questions we had though was whether or not sun-blessed steel could be destroyed or somehow reduced back to base steel.”

Rodri went pale, hand covering his bracelet protectively and Etrius winced, because he probably could have worded that better or at the very least waited to raise that possibility at a time where Rodri _wasn’t_ likely clinging to that steel’s song as a comfort.

“I don’t know,” Rodri admitted, “I never thought to ask.”

“I should have asked later, it’s nothing urgent,” Etrius huffed a laugh, “It came up for a couple of reasons but – honestly I wanted to know what happened to the old steel. We clearly had it at some point. Others in the legends clearly had it, though perhaps not everyone who the steel is attributed to, or perhaps some were weapons and tools handed down through the ages, but who forged it first? When did it stop being made? How did they forget how to make it? Where are those legacy weapons now? One thought I had was that the legacy weapons became regular steel after a while, but I don’t know if it’s possible.”

Rodri had pulled his legs up so he could wrap his arms around his knees, looking very thoughtful and a little frightened.

Before Etrius could ask what he was thinking about, though, the door opened and Sable and Seras stepped out, Father Seras looking bland and no help at all and Sable at least not looking much more distressed than she had when she walked in. He and Rodri both rose to their feet, but Rodri beat him to speaking, saying brightly, “My turn then?” and not even waiting for Father Seras to confirm it before heading for the door.

Usually Etrius would roll his eyes, but not today.

They both waited for the door to click shut behind Rodri and Father Seras before Sable switched tracks from walking to the bench to lunging for him and practically bowling him over in a hug he returned just as fiercely. Sable was his _best friend_, and the main reason she had even applied to stay on at the southern temple as staff when she was of age was so they would keep being able to see each other with his visits.

If _he _had decided that yesterday was too stressful, that doing research and triage on the golden fire issue was important enough to delay his visit by a day, Sable could have died.

“I can’t believe it was _him_,” Sable said, voice shaking, “Etrius it was – he always listened! When we had concerns he would listen and help us raise issues with Holiness Obric, and he would help the older kids find _jobs_ oh Sunlord how many of them did he push into helping him? Did he leave feeling indebted and privileged when he was _trapping them_?”

“Too many,” Etrius murmured, “Because I doubt that number is zero, and even one is too many. He’s Oathbreaker and Nameless and Forsaken, Sable, he’s finished.”

“They don’t know if he’s been caught yet,” Sable said shakily.

“We do,” Etrius refuted, before wincing and allowing, “Unless the person people were talking about with those golden sparks is a _different _Oathbreaker, he’s been caught, Sable.”

“How would we know?” she demanded, “How could we be sure? That’s just rumors!”

Etrius bit his lip before deciding it was worth asking, it could hardly hurt to _ask_, and they _had _both given their testimony already, so he closed his eyes and concentrated fiercely on the words of his question and the Firecat he wanted to speak to.

_:Kari? Is the one once called Bertrand caught?:_

_:He is,: _he heard Kari reply, sounding so very tired and so very relieved, _:He is. And – ah, I should broadcast an update in general. Thank you for the reminder, Etrius. He is caught, and being questioned, and the trap only sprang partially and is now almost entirely dismantled.:_

Heaving a relieved sigh, he felt Sable pull back a bit and he loosened his own hold, meeting her eyes and promising, “He’s caught, Sable. Honored Kari just confirmed it. He’s caught and the trap apparently sprang only somewhat and is just about dismantled now.”

“They were able to partially suppress the explosion,” Sable breathed, dropping her head against his shoulder with a murmured prayer of thanks, “They echoed Father Seras’ no-deaths claim.”

“Good,” Etrius said, feeling another wash of relief at the reminder of Father Seras’ assurances that there were no deaths from the trap, nothing terrible, in the way of injuries. With any luck at all, the Oathbreaker’s latest scheme hadn’t killed _anyone, _from set up to failed execution.

“And here I thought _last _winter was insane,” Sable muttered, and Etrius snickered, which set Sable to giggling and they practically collapsed onto the bench behind them trying to catch their breath and not laugh _too _loudly.

“The worst I thought we’d run into is you spending the whole morning arguing over your gift,” Etrius admitted, Sable promptly groaning and punching him in the arm.

“’Ri!” she scolded, “Ugh you are the _worst_ at lest tell me it’s practical this year!”

“My gifts are always practical!” Etrius protested, “You liked that scarf.”

“You turned a silk stole into a _purple scarf_ and added _beads _to it! Where on _earth_ am I supposed to be able to wear something that fancy?”

“I was aiming for burgundy, but the beets turned red to purple…”

“That isn’t _better_!”

“Hopefully this one is,” Etrius grinned, finding the wrapped packet in his inner coat pocket and producing it with a flourish, handing it over with an exaggerated bow, “May _this_ year’s gift find your favor, Lady Sable.”

“If you would just – my gift for you is in my room,” Sable realized, looking horrified, “Oh _no_ what if it’s gone? I worked so hard on it!”

“Sable, you’re _alive_,” Etrius said, bumping their shoulders together, “I couldn’t care _less_. I hope it isn’t ruined, because that means your room is ruined and I remember how happy you were about having your own room, but don’t worry about it.”

“As if you were any better when your Incendiary decided students should live in the Hall too,” Sable sniffed, shaking her head and setting the matter of her gift for him aside to focus on the handkerchief wrapped package in her hand.

“Hmm… not too heavy, but not flat enough for – Etrius, if this is actually valuable jewelry, I will shove you down the stairs,” Sable hissed, evidently feeling the distinctive shape of a bracelet and starting to undo his overly elaborate folds and tucks.

“I’m not an _idiot_,” Etrius rolled his eyes, “The things I snag for repurposing are being donated anyway, the stole from last year was badly frayed and had some stains before I hemmed and dyed it, the beads were not-quite the right shade of whatever color Holiness Lumira was after. Come on Sable, give me _some _credit.”

“If I give you too much credit you’ll hang yourself,” Sable muttered, expression softening when she actually caught sight of the bracelet, “Did you make this?”

“I did,” Etrius said, before shoving his sleeve back and showing off the similar bracelet on his own wrist, “Made myself one too. Made mine first to practice, you got the nicer one.”

“As it should be,” Sable agreed cheerfully, slipping the bracelet of knots and beads onto her wrist and figuring out the mechanism for sliding it tighter, “It’s good work! _And _something I can actually wear day to day, this is much better.”

“And _might_ be mildly spelled for protection from coercion and from being found by those who wish you ill,” Etrius coughed, already wincing when Sable punched the same spot on his arm again, “Ow!”

“_Magic_?!” Sable hissed, “Etrius you can’t give me - !”

“I can,” Etrius interrupted her, scowling, “Sable I _checked_. I _can_. There were never any official rules against giving people magical objects as cost-free gifts – oh fine, most called them blessed objects, but there were no rules against it! Only against using an offer of such things as leverage! Now there are definitely no rules against gifting, not for spells that aren’t malicious. I just – I wanted to practice the spells. I wanted to give you something like this for years, this is just the first time I thought I could both manage the spells and anchor them to something that you’d wear. Fabron says Holiness Lumira found some spells that protect against the taint of blood magic and when I learn how to craft those or manage to earn a favor from someone who knows I’m getting you one of those too.”

“Those _lothga_ you told me about? The stories that are actually real?” Sable asked quietly.

“Blood mages attract them, I don’t know if these anti-taint spells would help against them, but they couldn’t hurt,” Etrius sighed, feeling abruptly exhausted, “With any luck at all you’d never be in a position to be near blood magic taint, being in Sunhame, but I’d feel better if you had it.”

“Only if you get yourself one first,” Sable said quietly, tucking the embroidered kerchief away – the wrapping was always a secondary gift, after all – before grabbing his hand and continuing, “Be that something you learn and make for yourself or a favor you earn, you get yourself one first, and _then _the next one you get you can give to someone else. You can give to me, if you still want to. As long as you have one too, I’ll accept it.”

“Thank you, Sable,” Etrius breathed, settling his head on top of hers when she leaned against his shoulder. Not as fun of a round of bantering as they could usually manage, but today wasn’t a day for that. Today was a day to thank the Sunlord and Ari and all the Blessed Souls that things had aligned just enough for the innocents caught in the Oathbreaker’s latest scheme to escape. He hoped every innocent caught in one of his other webs got free too.

And he hoped every person who helped the one once called Bertrand spin those webs _choked_ on them.

=pagebreak=

It was a good thing his flask had only been half-full and watered down with lemon-water besides, Trevar had practically drained the thing. Marghi honestly didn’t know why he bothered carrying it, he no longer drank even to the point of being buzzed. Compromising his judgment was too risky nowadays. The flask came in handy on days like this though, when he at least wanted to be able to pretend he had the option of raising a glass to an insane day that wasn’t even half over.

Scrubbing at his face tiredly, he turned off Southern Ray into the first of a series of alleyways that would let him hopefully get to the back entrance of the Outer Eighth Sector Station without running into the crowds that were undoubtedly assembling in front of it. He had helped Trevar with the immediate aftermath of the Oathbreaker’s capture, what with the collision and crowd dispersal, then split from the other Captain and gone further out in the city to find a food stall, Sunlord knew he’d end up staying late today and skipping a meal would only make that harder. Rumors had already spread that far by the time he reached the stall he’d had in mind, so between making his purchase and devouring it, Marghi had given a basic explanation and announced that anyone who had been influenced or coerced by said Oathbreaker should give their statement to a Sector Station.

He didn’t doubt some people were already in Sector Stations for just that; Trevar had admitted after Bellamy’s departure and a few swigs that he had heard the Voice declaring him free of enchantment from the Oathbreaker in his own mind. It was likely an experience shared by everyone who had been freed from spellcraft, and meant everyone so freed knew that the Oathbreaker was caught and that ‘mortal justice remained’, whatever that ended up meaning. With the numbers he would bet the man had coerced – directly, indirectly, hells there were undoubtedly willing conspirators too – they would be sorting this out for moons, if not _years_.

Painful to deal with, but something that needed to be done, and done well. A _mission_, thank the Sunlord, he always did better when there was a longer-term goal instead of the usual day to day slog of being Captain. A mission this intense? Honored Kari could take as long as he needed to recover after what was undoubtedly a ridiculous day, Caleb would manage.

He found himself eyeing the stone stairs leading down into a sunken garden a bit too contemplatively, nonetheless, and tore his gaze away, focusing ahead of him and slipping his hand into his pocket to grab the sun-blessed steel arrowhead he had been granted. He had no idea if it helped in any way besides giving him something new and different to properly focus on, but it was too dull to consider it an avenue to kill himself quickly and it wasn’t making things worse, so he would take it.

Right. Focus on something else. Something more specific than the generic existence of this complicated set of cases. What did he need to ensure was being done when he got back? Gathering testimony from those who came to speak of the Oathbreaker’s coercion, obviously. Hmm. Likely reserve a testimony collection pair for cases _other_ than that, set up some sort of queue for the Oathbreaker’s victims. Ah, first he had best speak to any of his Sunsguard who had been coerced via spellcraft, if any. But given the potential for Justicar interaction, he suspected any coercion on that front was in having a loved one trapped under spellcraft rather than themselves, which meant the men under that threat might not believe their loved ones were safe until they’d seen them personally.

Assuming, of course, that whatever leverage or coercion had been applied _was_ solely from directly targeted spellcraft, which he doubted. Bully boys and the like could easily be used, and depending on the Oathbreaker’s style he likely had subordinates more than willing to apply that sort of leverage.

Then he needed to make himself available so that anyone worried for friends or family members would have a chance to approach him, yet somehow arrange it so anyone observing wouldn’t immediately know what was being discussed. That could get complicated, since he’d prefer to remain on the main level, both for availability to his staff as a whole and so he could confirm that the testimony gathering was going according to the strictest procedure – a legibly written record, either read by the witness or read to them by someone other than the one who had written the record, and if the witness agreed with what had been written, they would sign it. If they requested it, they were entitled to a similarly verified copy of their testimony, signed, sealed and dated. He had made sure to press home very firmly his first few moons here that those requests were always to be honored and, preferably, those copies _offered_ rather than waiting for people to ask.

He had even given reprimands to guardsmen who made that offer with an insincere or exasperated tone, and on one notable occasion actual disciplinary action when the man in question didn’t cease and desist, so odds were better his preferred practices were holding true. It was worth verifying, though. Hells, especially now, more people than usual were going to take them up on the offer for a case like this. He would need to requisition more paper, he wouldn’t be surprised if they actually ran out before the next resupply –

“Captain!”

Had he not thanked the Sunlord sincerely enough for His aid this morning? Was that it?

He remembered a line his mother had quoted at them when he and his siblings complained – usually about something ridiculous, they had been children. _You are given these burdens because your soul was crafted to bear them._

It hadn’t made him feel any better about chores as a child, and it hadn’t made him feel any better about Nacht’s scarring of his own _mind_, and it certainly didn’t make him feel any better about this utter fiasco of a day!

_Two Firecats. Sun-blessed steel. Corrupt bastard got what was coming for him. I’m getting help at some point. What Nacht did to me was wrong, regardless of Talents not being witchy. Today has been _good_, even if it’s been insane,_ he reminded himself, turning in the direction of the shout and wanting to curse when he didn’t recognize the man at all. Man wasn’t in uniform, so not an on-duty guardsman, and since Caleb didn’t recognize him he wasn’t a current member of the Outer Eighth guard. Not someone like Val either, hauled in frequently enough and with a memorable-enough personality to be pointed out to him.

Even just in walking here, hearing all the rumors of golden sparks and an echoing Voice – it painted a disturbing picture of how far the Oathbreaker’s machinations had stretched. He knew in his bones that fleshing out the details would make it worse, and it left him wondering how many persons of interest he had been steered away from by men whose choices weren’t entirely their own. Was this a face he should know? Was this one the former Captain had known? Perhaps even been a reason that Captain had retired and moved out of Sunhame with his entire family?

Or was this man someone he should know as a victim? As someone harmed by the Oathbreaker and his ilk, who his gaze had been carefully turned away from without his noticing?

“You have me at a disadvantage,” he said, waiting for the man’s brisk pace to get him within speaking distance and very deliberately not removing his hands from his pockets when the man still drew closer. He couldn’t quite avoid shifting his stance, but that was less blatantly aggressive than settling a hand near his truncheon.

“Name’s Nico, locksmith,” the man said, finally stopping and rocking back on his heels only a short distance away. Not quite in arm’s reach, but well within range of a lunge-led strike.

Legitimate locksmiths were closely monitored. Between the profession and the name, tracking down information on this man would be easy, so long as he was telling the truth.

“Caleb Marghi, Captain of the Outer Eighth Sector Station, though you apparently already knew that. How can I help you, Master Nico?”

“Name Darius Vars mean anything to you?”

The way the name was practically spat out, Caleb had a sinking feeling he _should_ know the name. Had a feeling the only reason he _didn’t _know the name was because people he had expected honesty from, had thought made it past the first round of discharges and investigations legitimately instead of with corruption to thank, had ensured he wouldn’t hear it.

“I am afraid it does not,” he said quietly.

The locksmith gave a sharp laugh that was anything but amused, and asked after a different name, “How about Garth Nolans?”

Now that name he did know, but he had only just heard it for the first time today when Honored Kari had startled a few years off his life by speaking to him out of nowhere and explaining the basic situation they had found Val stuck in the middle of. It had sounded like the man was one who had been ignored when he shouldn’t have been, and he had left a note to himself to raid the Station records for anything including that name in the next day or so. Hadn’t had the chance to do so, between his short meeting with Bron and his decision to track Trevar down to give the other Captain a warning, but he had planned to at least.

“Heard that name for the first time today,” Marghi admitted, shifting his weight a bit and saying, “I take it those are names I should know?”

“They’re names some people put a lot of work into making sure you didn’t know,” the locksmith said, confirming Caleb’s own suspicions and fortunately elaborating without prompting, “Ex-Sunsguard, both of them. Vars was a Sergeant, Garth was his Corporal. Whole squad was discharged early spring, before official guidelines came down. Nolans filed for an appeal and it was denied, but that story was squashed quick, left a lot thinking he never bothered filing.”

“Hmm. Illegal, that denial. I can ensure an appeal gets fast-tracked, but I suspect that’s not what you flagged me down for.”

“It’s not, though I’d appreciate that,” the man agreed, hesitating before shifting his own weight in preparation for flight. Keeping his feet planted rather than moving so he could more quickly pursue took conscious effort, but Marghi managed. This man had flagged him down and wanted his aid in something, despite evidently having a whole host of reasons to mistrust the Sunsguard. Best to not agitate this very hesitantly extended trust.

“Officers in the guard can arrest based on information, investigate afterwards. Don’t need to personally witness a crime before an arrest, last I heard, is that still true?” the locksmith asked carefully.

“Depending on severity of supposedly witnessed crime, yes,” Caleb confirmed, deciding to not yet mentioning the additional host of requirements on how long one could take on that follow up investigation before having to let the arrested person go, prompting after a long moment, “You have information that you think should lead to an arrest?”

“I’ve seen him beat men to death,” Nico said, voice hollow, “Darius Vars, that is. I’ve seen him arrest men for crimes his allies committed, because they didn’t give him what he wanted _fast _enough. Nolans… tried. Hells, he stopped arresting people for anything but serious assaults and murders, since Vars had to sign off on every penalty his men issued and always made it worse, just because he _could_. Worked out deals instead. Got my job as a locksmith that way. Wasn’t registered to start, but Garth helped me get an apprenticeship.”

“I’ll need more details to properly start an investigation, but what you’ve stated is enough for me to issue orders for Vars’ arrest and hold him for three days while we investigate before I have to let him go if nothing is found. I’ll issue those orders the moment I get back to the Station,” Marghi assured him, feeling a dull sort of fury at the story he was hearing, at the things he could hear between the now-registered locksmith’s words. Nolans was likely with the Justicars already, and if they hadn’t arranged to get him an appeal yet then by the One God, Caleb would do it himself and file a very strongly worded complaint against former Captain Pars while he was at it, because there was exactly one person who could possibly serve as gatekeeper for those appeals at the Station level.

“All due respect Captain, you didn’t even know Vars’ _name_ before this. What sort of odds you want to lay on people actually _pursuing_ that arrest?” the locksmith said, voice sharp enough that any ‘due respect’ was lip service, but Marghi couldn’t blame the man. The thought had occurred to him as well, but he was one man, and he had little other practical choice. Aside from that, though the locksmith had no way of knowing, Caleb strongly suspected that orders to that effect were already en route from Fourth Court, if not already arrived.

But he didn’t have any way to explain that, not without spending a lot of time claiming things he had no way to quickly prove true. Besides, Nico the locksmith had to have reported this information to him for a reason, and if that reason wasn’t to simply get orders for Vars’ arrest issued…

“Not particularly good odds,” he allowed, tilting his head slightly, “So you want me to arrest him myself. You know where he is, then?”

“I know where he was not too long ago. Have some acquaintances keeping an eye on it, if he’s left they’ll know which way he went. Might have followed, if they thought they could stay unnoticed.”

No hobbles, no back up. No one would even know where he was. This could very easily be a trap.

A sacred arrowhead was still clenched in his hand. Honored Kari could not come to his aid today, but he would be able to hear Caleb if he called, according to Holiness Dinesh. If this was a trap, he would at least be able to raise an alarm. He wouldn’t be utterly silenced and forgotten.

This was his _duty_. It didn’t matter what it cost him.

“Lead the way, Master Nico,” he finally said.

The man looked far too wary for someone who had just received exactly what he had asked for, but Marghi raised an eyebrow at him and that got him moving. He made sure to keep himself close enough to Nico that the man could keep him in the corner of his gaze, and kept his hands in his pockets. It was all the reassurance he could really offer that wouldn’t be brushed off as just being words.

The locksmith kept to side streets and alleys, only crossing more major thoroughfares when there was no choice, and didn’t say a word unless it was to give a heads up he was about to turn across Marghi’s path. He didn’t bother asking any of the multitude of questions this entire interaction had spawned, both out of respect for Nico’s clear desire for silence and out of sheer practicality. He had no idea where they were heading, and had no way of knowing how close they were. Best not to alert anyone of their approach by speaking, especially since the questions he had would make it very obvious that a Sunsguard officer was approaching.

It was only a few more blocks before a snippet of whistling caught his ear, and by the way Nico immediately swerved in that tune’s direction it was a signal. At least it meant it wasn’t the tune Enforcer Bellamy had warned him against humming along too – after that utterly bizarre warning he didn’t plan to hum ever again, not so long as this piece of sun-blessed steel was in his possession. Nico tossed a coin to the man who’d evidently whistled that signal, sitting on the top of a ramshackle set of steps and slumped against the doorframe, scarf wrapped around the majority of his face and a knit cap pulled low.

“Still there,” the man said, evidently one of the acquaintances Nico had left on watch, “No sign of Nolans yet?”

“Neither of them,” Nico said, likely referring to both Garth and the sister who Caleb only knew existed from Honored Kari’s summary of Val’s situation, “Any new faces go in?”

“Course,” the man spat to one side, “Poor bastard with the kid.”

“Hells, that’ll make it messy,” Nico muttered, Caleb feeling his eyebrows creeping up his face and the number of questions he had going up along with them, “Thanks Renz, might want to get out of here.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” the man muttered, climbing to his feet, only now glancing Caleb’s way and looking torn for a long moment, before nodding his head and saying, “Good luck for this one, Captain.”

Caleb nodded back and stepped aside to let the man pass freely, feeling amused despite the circumstances at the very specific thanks. He had a feeling this Renz was far more likely to end up wishing Sunsguard ill-fortune in their pursuits, but Darius Vars was apparently enough of a wretch for all sorts of people to want him gone. Was just a matter of making sure the people who needed to keep him around for whatever reason were dealt with.

How fortunate, that the Oathbreaker had been caught.

Nico led the way into the building Renz had been sitting in front of, and Caleb stepped where the locksmith did as best he could, following Nico to the wall that evidently split the building in half, and the one door that led through it. By the glistening, someone had recently oiled the hinges, and the door opened quietly – and with the door open, he could hear a murmur of voices. Not enough to make out words just yet, but enough to make out tone, and the tone was ugly.

“ – known better than to trust Nolans, bastard’s been trying to break things open for years,” he heard through a half-open door, Nico pausing out of sight of that gap and Caleb settling in beside him to listen for a bit.

It was likely safe to assume the speaker’s identity, but better safe than sorry, especially now. Tapping the locksmith on he shoulder, he made a gesture to indicate talking and mouthed the name, “Vars,” with a query in his expression. The slow nod confirmed it, this voice was definitely the Darius Vars he apparently should have been hearing quite a bit about.

“Could have thought he’d given up,” a voice _he _knew said. Senior Lieutenant Bron, you should be managing witness intakes right now, or preparing for the upcoming Shift Lead meeting. Ah hells, the man was de facto second in command and had been for well over two years, which meant Caleb was going to have to reopen nearly _every case_ that had _ever closed _in that time span.

_It could be worse_, he reminded himself, grimacing nonetheless, _you could not know. Better to clean it up than pretend it never happened. Cleaned wounds heal._

Vars’ laugh was disturbingly bright, the sound didn’t fit the man’s evident character at all.

“Nolans? Give up? Man doesn’t know the meaning of the word, why do you think I kept him around so long? Wouldn’t break, didn’t matter what I did,” the man sounded nearly _proud_, and definitely admiring. The meaty _thunk_ that followed didn’t come with any accompanying sounds of pain, not even a hitch of breath. Whoever had been struck was unconscious or worse. Two conscious bodies, at the very least, and who knew which way Bron would fall. Coerced, or willing? And if coerced, by what means? Did he even know that the Oathbreaker’s malicious spellcraft had been removed?

“Not like this one here,” Vars scoffed, another _thunk_ punctuating his words, “Didn’t even last the first moon before he was bending over backwards to please. Useful I suppose, but the struggle’s more fun.”

Oh Caleb didn’t like the sound of that hitch in Bron’s breathing at _all_.

“So you’re not letting Gari go,” the man said.

“Now you’re getting it,” Vars practically crooned the words. How wonderful, his nightmares had been getting repetitive lately, some variety was just what he needed. Vars didn’t stop, though at least he stopped _crooning_, voice switching to idle when anyone with sense would know it was anything but, “Larschen here brought me shit news, and now I can’t even say my sponsor’s _name_, which means all sorts of problems are coming my way. Why the hell would I let you buy little Garrick’s freedom? No other reason for you to get me out of Sunhame, cuz.”

A long silence, and Caleb was ready to put an end to this. No one else had said a word in that room, and he didn’t hear anyone moving about in there that wasn’t accounted for by Bron and Vars. Besides that, it sounded like Bron was being coerced, so with any luck he wouldn’t actively defend Vars if it came down to it.

Exhaling slowly, not quite willing to pray that this would go well more for fear that there _would _be an answer than that there wouldn’t be, he finally let go of the blessed arrowhead he’d clung to this whole time. Unhooking his truncheon from his belt, he tapped Nico on the shoulder again and gestured for the man to step aside and let him pass.

“Not even going to beg, are you,” Vars said, sounding _wistful_, of all things, “Not even for old time’s sake?”

“What’s the point?” Bron bit out, Caleb finally catching a glimpse of the inside of the room, though all he could see was bloodstained floorboards. Fairly fresh pool, and large enough the Larschen that Vars had been kicking was definitely dead, “You want people to beg, you let begging work once and a while, you _bastar – ”_

“Hey now!” Vars snarled, wood scraping and Caleb slammed the door open, crying, “Darius Vars! You are under arrest!”

Procedurally, he should pause now and give the man at least three breaths to surrender. Practically, the man was already in the middle of lunging for Bron, would definitely not stop, and was most definitely a nightmare of the first order.

Eh. Maybe second. Nacht had set a high bar.

Bron dodged, spinning out of the way but Vars was too quick on his own feet for Caleb to take advantage of his momentary overbalancing. Widening his stance as he settled in to block the door, Caleb kept his focus on Vars. No resemblance between the two apparent cousins, and despite what he almost hoped, there was none of Nacht’s madness in the man’s eyes. No, this man knew exactly what he was about, and relished in every second of it.

“Captain Marghi, isn’t it?” Vars sneered, shifting his weight back and forth as though he was going to lunge but never quite committing to it. Waiting for him to flinch away, for Caleb to leave a gap the man could shove through. If he’d had back up, that’d have been perfect. Could have had them waiting just outside to pin Vars down.

He had a locksmith, who he didn’t even know for sure had stayed to see this through. Wouldn’t blame the man if he hadn’t. He had a Shift Lead who was evidently long compromised and resigned to being under this bastard’s thumb.

He couldn’t even trust his own mind most days, and he was still here. There was still a chance.

“Bandit hunter turned city guard, now there’s a shift,” the man laughed, the sound no longer the bright thing that made Marghi’s skin crawl at the dissonance, this was more of a malicious snicker. It was oddly calming. At least it matched the words.

“What drove you in? Not enough girls in those farm towns you guarded? Not what I heard,” the man said, sounding smug, “I heard _you_ got yourself attacked by a witch. Nearly got you to slit your own throat, didn’t he? Little fucker. Can’t even be compensated now, can you, witches aren’t witches. How’s that feel, Captain? Knowing the witch that almost killed you wasn’t even evil?”

“He was never evil,” Caleb said, keeping his tone cool and deliberately not letting himself look away, even if it meant Bron’s horrified expression was in his line of sight, “What he did to me was wrong, but he was mad. Not evil. Not malicious.”

“How inspiring,” Vars spat, tone growing uglier. Caleb wasn’t doing what he wanted, after all, “Truly merciful, _Captain_, so kind of you.”

“Oh I didn’t truly believe that till this morning,” Caleb smirked, stalling in hopes there’d be some opening, that Bron might choose the right side, “Poor timing, Vars. Would have made me flinch, yesterday. Poor timing all around, wasn’t it? Oathbreaking sponsor of yours had his plan fall apart, your own sadism stabs you in the foot, all from what? Do you even know where things went wrong for you?”

Vars was snarling, a hair-raising sound, but Marghi had caught his interest. Man wasn’t shifting anymore, and even better had frozen where he wouldn’t be able to see Bron if the man moved carefully. Couldn’t glance his Shift Lead’s way, that would ruin any chance of an ambush from that quarter, and he had no way of knowing if Bron was even capable of _taking_ that chance, resigned as he likely was.

Habits carved furrows in one’s mind all on their own, no Talent required. Just took longer. And as long as he suspected Vars had been threatening Bron’s son? His Shift Lead was in the _habit _of obedience to this man, forget Bron’s perfectly understandable terror that Vars would be able to enact some form of vengeance on him if he dared try.

“You took Val, and Val, as it turns out, has quite the family,” Caleb finally said.

“Always wanted to pay that bitch a visit, but my sponsor wanted her for himself. Thanks for the tip, Captain, I’ll make sure to track her down on my way out,” Vars sneered, and Caleb knew the man wanted him to flinch, to be horrified, and in any other circumstance he would try to distract the man, to point out that he hadn’t been referring to Jana, not really. He had been referring to Val’s so-called younger brother, but to be perfectly honest the idea of this man trying to track down Holiness Jaina, Firestarter…

“I doubt that will work out well for you,” he replied dryly.

Floorboard creaked _damn_ Bron had almost had a shot –

Vars staggered under the swing, slamming an elbow into his cousin’s chest, Caleb lunging forward and ducking a blow and stomping a knee into collapsing but not able to completely dodge the open-handed strike to his face, nails catching on his cheek and blood running down but it gave him the angle to twist Vars’ arm up around his back and Bron took the shot that opened up and Vars slumped, eyes rolled up in the back of his head and one hell of a lump in the midst of forming.

Caleb didn’t let go of him, just his luck the man would be one to shake off a head blow quicker than the usual, and instead finally got a good look at his daytime Shift Lead.

The man looked torn between relief and horror, stumbling back till he hit the wall and sliding down it, truncheon in a white knuckled grip.

“What sort of hold did he have over your son?” Caleb demanded.

“Curse,” Bron said, voice choked, “Whenever he wanted he could – he could make him sick.”

One of the few things he knew about the man’s family was that he had a sickly little boy. That curse had been used far too often, if the number of illnesses he’d heard was even close to accurate. But something like that was definitely magic, and with any luck at all…

“You know who cast the spell? Was it his sponsor that can’t be named anymore?”

“Don’t know. Think so,” Bron said, bowing his head, “Fuck I don’t even know how he sets the curse off. He could – he could still – “

“You see those golden sparks?” the locksmith demanded, finally appearing in the doorway and flinching when he caught sight of the corpse in one corner, “Ah, hells.”

“He was dying when I got here,” Bron said, voice dull, “Only thing missing was the snapped neck. Vars was – was waiting. For an audience. To do that part. Doesn’t think it’s fun to kill if no one else is there to watch.”

“Golden sparks he’s talking about were the miraculous removal of all the Oathbreaker’s malicious spellwork. Happened all over Sunhame, why I asked if you knew who had cursed your son,” Caleb explained, redirecting to a less horrifying topic and watching his Shift Lead struggle to keep his breathing even. At least Caleb’s issues were confined to his own mind, his own skin. Traumatizing for whoever watched when he finally broke, but he had worked damn hard at making sure his judgment was only truly compromised when it was his life alone on the line –

He should have asked Nico if there was any aid from the Sunsguard the locksmith would accept. There had to be others Caleb could have reached out to. New transfers, unlikely to have fallen under Vars’ sway just yet. He could have asked for Honored Kari to ask the Justicar at Fourth Court to send reinforcements, he could have demanded that Nico spell out just what was waiting for him and whether or not the locksmith planned to help detain Vars or not. He had gone along with a plan to pull a solo arrest on a man known for _beating people to death_ and his only mitigation had been a half-thought plan to send a final message to Honored Kari if it looked like he’d lose.

Fuck. Only direct risk to his skin, fine, but if he’d died Vars could have gotten away, and even this one encounter told him enough to know that was unacceptable. This wasn’t sustainable. He couldn’t keep doing this. But he also couldn’t afford to have a panicked breakdown now, so he focused on the immediate problem.

“Need your hobbles, Bron,” he added, the man jolting and shaking his head, muttering apologies and unhooking his hobbles from his belt, tossing them over. Took a few moments past that even, but the request finally seemed to register and he blinked, some of his daze fading as he asked, “You don’t have any hobbles, sir?”

“Only carry one set,” Caleb grunted, choosing to bind the man’s arms in the same slightly frowned-upon way Bellamy had done the Oathbreaker’s. Vars had a head wound, moving him was non-ideal, but Caleb wasn’t staying here, he doubted Nico was any more inclined to go to the Sector Station than before especially solo, and he sure as hell wasn’t letting Bron out of his sight right now.

“Handed it over to get used on the Oathbreaker,” he continued, checking the bindings and pleased enough with them, slowly easing Vars’ body down so he could properly frisk it for weapons. Some nasty knuckle guards in a pocket, knobbed nearly to spikes and still tacky with blood, two knives of middling quality, one knife against his lower back of _exceptional _quality and the glistening of the light on the rippled metal was lovely, dying by this blade would be an acceptable way to –

“Captain!”

Inhaling desperately, he flung the far-too-close blade away from him and slammed his fist against the wooden floor, “Damn it!”

The room practically echoed with their breathing.

Finally Nico’s footsteps broke it, the man using his foot to drag the other two blades and the knuckleguards further away from him. Marghi didn’t quite dare look at either of them, reaching for his arrowhead and struggling to even out his own breathing.

“So the making nooses out of hobbles isn’t intended as threatening,” Bron said.

“Not to anyone but myself, at least,” Caleb replied bitterly, shaking his head and forcing that aside. He _would_ be getting help. Help actually _existed_. He did not have time for this. “My apologies, for leaving you with the impression I was trying to threaten you.”

“I thought it was too mild to be an intentional threat,” Bron admitted, slowly climbing to his feet and very deliberately resecuring his truncheon before he did so, “My money was on it being some morbid habit to pass the time you didn’t even think about anymore. Not everyone interpreted it as a threat, sir.”

“Some did, and that’s too many,” he retorted, glancing Nico’s way before saying, “Senior Lieutenant, bag up the weapons. Master Nico, will you be accompanying us to Outer Eighth or would you prefer your testimony be gathered without your immediately visible association to this arrest?”

The locksmith took a few steps back from the knives and knuckleguards he’d kicked aside so Bron could gather them without getting within grabbing distance. Mistrust of Bron or an effort to reassure Bron, Caleb couldn’t quite tell. A mix was more than possible. Judging by the long silence and thoughtful expression in response to his question, there was more going into this decision than the man’s understandable mistrust of the Sunsguard of Outer Eighth.

Rebuilding trust was going to be a years-long endeavor. Possibly even his life’s work, and that was _without _assuming one of the lingering furrows from Nacht’s assault finally kept him hemmed in past all saving. It was _important _though, and with any luck it would start here.

“You say you saw the Oathbreaker get caught, Captain?”

“I did. Had gone to speak to Captain Nachten about the issues at the southern charity temple. Oathbreaker passed by, caught our attention as someone to talk to, threw a Levin bolt at us,” he shook his head at that memory, because as many times as he’d come to his senses with a noose in his hand or at the top of a steep set of stairs with no memory of climbing them, that was still the closest brush with death he’d had in years, “Dodged the first one, second bolt got taken down by the Voice. Honored Hansa took the man down, Voice declared him Oathbreaker, Nameless and Forsaken. When Bellamy came back to himself he needed hobbles to secure the man for hauling back to the Justicar. Golden sparks were part of some secondary Voice manifestation, I think. Captain Nachten had already had some sort of spellwork placed on him in the few seconds the Oathbreaker registered our existence, so saw that first hand too.”

“Well. You had. A morning,” the locksmith managed, voice distinctly strangled and Bron’s stunned expression not much better.

He had to snort, because they didn’t know the _half_ of it.

“Senior Lieutenant Bron, help me haul him out. We’ll leave markers on the doors, come back for the body. Master Nico, you coming with us publicly or not?”

“I’ll come in with you,” the man decided, watching as Bron came back to join Caleb in hooking an arm under Vars’ armpit to haul him up, bracing their forearms against the man’s shoulders. There’d be some dragging, but carrying him over a shoulder was a bad plan with the lump on his skull and likely patches of ice on the roads, and he suspected there were plenty of questions this man should be answering before he was allowed to die. Fortunately Vars’ coat was thick wool, gave them something to grip without worrying too much about it ripping free.

“Then if you’ll kindly get the door,” Caleb said, heading that way himself and relieved when Bron followed, Vars’ head lolling and feet dragging on the ground behind them, “Do either of you have specific names you would advise I keep away from this one when we get to the Sector Station? Or am I going to have to keep him locked up under my personal supervision until a transfer to Fourth Court can be arranged?”

“Couple names,” Bron admitted wearily, “Might be best to just take him straight to Fourth Court, especially if that Oathbreaker is there like you say.”

Caleb gave a non-commital hum, thinking that suggestion over as he pulled a pair of official Sunsguard tokens out of his stash and hung one on the door of the room. He kept another one out and hung it on the front door of the building they were in – a different door than the one Renz had been guarding, but that was why he put one on the room too. Signaled to everyone that Sunsguard would be back to examine a scene, with some heavy penalties on anyone caught interfering with the scene or in possession of those tokens without proper authorization. Wasn’t perfect, but it was something – honestly, he was impressed with how well it seemed to work.

The Fourth Court suggestion was a good one, honestly, but the Senior Lieutenant had a pallor to his skin even now and while Marghi wouldn’t say it specifically, he wanted the man sitting down and with someone sent to check on his family as soon as possible. The longer the man had to worry about his son being cursed in some last gasp of vengeance the worse his state would likely get. Aside from that, Caleb knew Fourth Court had likely already sent out the promised orders regarding collecting testimony against the Oathbreaker. Standard policy was for Court runners to announce those orders immediately, but remain at the Sector Station until they personally handed the written orders to the ranking officer on shift. Right now, that meant him, and he didn’t doubt that policy and procedure was being followed _very _carefully on this investigation.

Well, barring the apparent multiple divine interventions, but somewhere in the books he was sure there was official policy for incorporating divine intervention into a legal case. Long out of use and possibly even entirely lost, but he had no doubt at all that something to that effect had been on the books at some point.

“I was told to expect orders from Fourth Court with guidelines for collecting testimony involving the Oathbreaker. They’re likely already there, and are undoubtedly waiting for me to accept the orders formally. That runner will be an external witness to prevent any mishandling of custody, but I’m not hauling this one all the way to Fourth Court right now,” Marghi decided, outlining at least some of the reasons he was refusing Bron’s suggestion.

“Also, if people are showing up at the station to testify regarding the Oathbreaker’s broken spellcraft, they could very well know Vars as his subordinate. Seeing him hauled in might get more detailed statements out of them,” he added, continuing down the street that would lead them to the Sector Station. The main entrance, this time. If he was going to use Vars’ once-victims seeing him caught as reason to not go all the way to Fourth Court right now, he had to make sure they actually _saw_ Vars.

“Oh I think that’ll prompt plenty of details, Captain,” Nico said, voice darkly satisfied. Hopefully at some point Caleb would get answers as to how this man had become involved, though he suspected there was some sort of perceived debt to Nolans as a motivator.

“Right, need to make sure Garth Nolans actually receives his appeal,” he muttered, wincing as he followed that thought through, “And make sure everyone else entitled to an appeal actually received one if they wanted, damn it.”

“Nolans was the only one who filed for an appeal and was denied. Don’t know if the others already knew it would be useless or if they didn’t want it,” Bron said quietly, breath shaky and voice even softer as he admitted, “Captain Pars had grandchildren. Same curse as my boy on at least one of them. Finally got released when he retired. Last favor was denying appeals for anyone who’d worked with Vars.”

“I guessed there was something like that,” Marghi grimaced, shaking his head and shifting his grip a bit – there really was no good way to carry a person as complete dead-weight, not unless they were literally dead weight and you didn’t care too much about their condition, “Explains why he retired and took his entire family out of the city.”

“Didn’t want to risk getting caught in that trap again,” Bron agreed, voice cracking a bit as he continued, “Seemed proof I could actually. Get Gari freed. Somehow. Said if I made sure Val and Garth got the brunt of suspicion in whatever was supposed to happen today, they’d let my boy go too. Went out to… to make sure rumors were spreading like he said they would be, when I heard about golden sparks and… and decided to see if that was worth anything instead.”

“I wondered what the hell those rumors about Val and Garth going to the underlevels were about,” Nico muttered, which was concerning in and of itself. Rumors had already been spreading, yet somehow when Jana came in to ask after where her brother was, no one in the station had heard of them? Unlikely. Something else to look into, then.

He still didn’t quite understand what the goals of this plot were, even with his extra bit of insight from Honored Kari’s initial call to him, explaining the Garth Nolans found Val situation. Whatever it was, it sounded hellishly nested. Something against Firestarters, at the topmost level, but did Vars even know that Val was a Firestarter? It hadn’t sounded like it, with his comments about Jana. Higher level plot, Val being a scapegoat made sense, but why the hell was Nolans supposed to get credited with this too? Just to fuck with him, because apparently Vars was the sort of person to find that entertaining? Or had this been at the Oathbreaker’s behest to get Nolans eliminated instead of constantly a threat to their plans? Managing a man trying to ruin you without flat out killing him sounded _complicated_, especially keeping in mind that for the sorts of people Vars and the Oathbreaker evidently were, killing would be far from the last resort.

This investigation was definitely going to be a city spanning mess. He was not looking forward to getting final numbers of how many dishonorable discharges and demotions and on-duty probations his Sector Station was going to be facing. Staffing was going to be a _problem_, damn everything to the coldest of hells, but especially Darius Vars and his Oathbreaking sponsor.

=pagebreak=

They had been in the middle of this same spice cake debate when Kari’s voice had interrupted and reminded Jaina that Maude was still at risk, because Vars was loose and apparently had been tasked with eliminating her as part of the Oathbreaker’s scheme. By the way Maude had reacted, she had expected as much, and said nothing. Jaina was unsure if it was because Maude had a plan involving using herself as bait or if Maude had simply not thought they would listen to her if she raised concerns about her own safety, but both options were honestly awful to contemplate so she had insisted on staying with Maude herself.

If Vars wasn’t caught by the time she had to leave, the Nolans siblings would simply become the first in living memory to claim sanctuary in the full ‘take shelter in our Hall’ sense. First in well over six centuries, actually. If it hadn’t been for the rewrite of the Charter dragging a lot of archaic practices and customs to the forefront, Jaina would honestly have forgotten that the practice was still a legitimate one.

“Maude, I will gladly _buy_ an extra spice cake, I was already planning to ask if you had any extras when I picked up my order, you don’t need to _give_ me one!” Jaina protested, for at least the fifth time.

Maude actually scoffed, which was an improvement over the awkward hesitation of her first retort to Jaina’s objections, shaking her head and saying, “I have plenty of extras. I always bake extras for impulse purchases, and some of my standing orders canceled at the last minute. I had the ingredients on hand already, and as spice cake is a seasonal demand, I used all of it.”

“Bellamy would disagree,” Jaina said dryly, unable to resist, “He’s the whole reason I upped my holiday order a few moons ago, the man’s apparently obsessed with spice cake.”

“Then you’ll have to take two extras,” Maude said briskly, and Jaina literally bit her tongue this time. The only objections she truly had to this offer of Maude’s, this _decision_ of Maude’s, was the fact that helping was her duty. She had not done it for reward, she would have done it for anyone, and the fact that she had considered Maude a friendly acquaintance for over ten years and never _once_ suspected something was wrong, that the baker was being coerced and blackmailed and pinned in a corner…

If she had just _once_ looked with mage-sight. Just _once_ done her usual-as-Jaina glances to make sure no unexpected spellwork cropped up that people might need help getting free of, Maude could have been freed years ago. They could have eliminated the Oathbreaker years ago. Not as thoroughly as they would likely manage now, with the full force of the regime behind them and no need or even desire to shelter those who had willingly conspired with him, but it could have been done. She could have _helped_.

“Maude! Maude Nolans!” she heard, quickly turning with Maude and just as quickly readying a clever little cantrip Colbern had once taught her, which made the target stumble. It’d be enough for her to call for Honored Hansa, perhaps get Maude clear, and resign herself to saying to hell with Jana and let slightly more obvious combat magic fly.

“Bretta!” Maude greeted, sounding more than a little stunned but not hostile, and stopping at the sight of the woman, letting her catch up. A boy, perhaps nine, was walking in the woman’s wake, hand tightly clasped with hers and looking more than a little stunned. Jaina quickly slipped into mage-sight and managed not to frown, though it was difficult. No spellcraft on either of them currently, but the boy’s internal networks were far too active – not as if he were a mage himself, or rather, not as if he held the potential to be one, but as if…

As if he had been weighed down for a long while, and was finally free.

Letting her vision fade back into the more normal way of viewing the world, she glanced at Maude and quirked an eyebrow, hoping for an introduction.

“Jana, this is Bretta,” Maude introduced, greeting Bretta with a handclasp and looking unsurprised when the woman pulled her son tight to her side as soon as they all stopped, stepping closer to the edge of the road in an effort to avoid blocking the thoroughfare, “And not-so-little Garrick. Is it still Gari? I remember last I saw you, that name wasn’t your favorite.”

The boy was staring up at Jaina with uncomfortably wide eyes, and she could only hope that he didn’t by some unimaginable coincidence share Colbern’s condition of constantly active somewhat-mage-sight. He would certainly be able to tell something was different about her if that were the case.

“Val’s sister Jana?” Bretta asked before her son could say anything.

“Exactly like,” she said, amused despite herself. Valerik had been doing this for decades, and the whole pirate press-gang story that had introduced her as his sister was one far too outlandish _not _to be spread far and wide by those who knew it, but it always struck her as bizarre just how _far_ his name as Val reached. Given, she didn’t associate with many lay-people as Jana outside of those she met en route to bailing Valerik out which undoubtedly influenced her perception, but still. She would swear she had never met this woman in her life, and would put good money on Val not being able to pick this Bretta’s face out of a crowd, yet here she was, immediately recognizing her as Jana, Val’s younger and more sensible sister.

“This is news for the both of you then,” Bretta said, expression going tight, “Your brother, Maude? Do you know where he is?”

“Yes,” Maude said shortly, voice utterly void of the friendliness that she had opened with. Before Jana could try and ask for clarification or simply offer some comment to hopefully break the growing tension, young Garrick or Gari spoke up, still staring at her.

“Uncle hated you,” he whispered, before burrowing his face into his mother’s coat, the woman wincing with a shudder.

“I… was unaware I talked to anyone in this Sector often enough to make them hate me,” Jaina admitted, feeling more than a little bemused, “At least without knowing them and their families on sight, but I could swear we have never met?”

“My husband’s cousin,” Bretta said, voice cracking, “He… would visit often. Talk about… work. Do you – know where your brother is, Mistress Jana?”

“I do,” Jana confirmed, “We are actually en route to the Sector Station to let them know he’s been found. Well, I am at least. Maude has testimony to offer.”

“He had nothing to do with it,” Bretta blurted, one free hand wringing in her skirt, “I – I will testify to whoever I need to he had _nothing_ to do with – with _whatever_ he might be accused of from last night, he was – “

Jaina interrupted her, easily seeing that she was near tears and hoping to reassure her at least somewhat, “I know what you are talking about. Well. Not in full detail. But my brother was supposed to be framed for a disaster, and he was found before it could happen. By Garth, actually. They have both already testified as much, and are being listened to. The man who orchestrated the scheme has been declared Oathbreaker – ”

“Nameless, and Forsaken,” the boy finished, staring up at her again, “Judgment has been rendered, but mortal justice remains.”

That – was the exact same wording Maude had used, and by the stunned horror on Maude’s face, she recognized the phrasing too. Jaina ignored the quiet communication going on between Maude and Bretta, filled with tearful expressions and hushed one-word questions and answers that she didn’t have enough context to properly understand, focusing instead on this boy. This _child_.

The only thing that had let her sleep at night these past years was the bone-deep surety that the wretches she burned had already tortured and tormented the souls of the innocents whose bodies they had stolen. They only looked innocent, sounded innocent, screamed in rage, not in terror. When that surety had been wrenched from her, when Kir had answered her question with no prevarication, no hesitation at all –

She had never wanted to be struck dead more than in that moment.

Gathering her skirt in one hand, she crouched down to be at eye-level with Gari, saying quietly, “The spells that were once on you are gone, you know.”

“I know,” he said, breath hitching, “And I’m glad. But what about my uncle? Will he be judged too?”

“If he is caught, yes,” Maude assured him, finally speaking full sentences again, and when Jaina looked up she was a little surprised to find Maude with an arm wrapped around Bretta’s shoulders, the woman hiding her face against Maude’s coat and shaking, “A warrant has already been issued for his arrest. It’s part of the reason I want to testify at Outer Eighth instead of just at Fourth Court, I want to see how they’re responding.”

And Jaina hadn’t been willing to leave Maude alone after Kari’s alert, so they had reorganized their walk to run Jaina’s errand first. It had only been after they’d started this way that it had occurred to them that Maude testifying to her brother’s former coworkers that she had been held under the Oathbreaker’s spellcraft could be invaluable in rehabilitating his reputation, or at least making it less likely any useful information he tried to pass along to them would be ignored, as his former attempts to gain help apparently had been.

“We’re heading there too,” Bretta said, pulling back from Maude’s hold and fishing a handkerchief out of her pocket, wiping her eyes, “I need to find Bron and tell him Gari’s free. He – he might know where Vars is, but if he doesn’t know Gari’s free… he can’t get away, Maude, he _can’t_.”

Maude hushed her when the woman started shaking again, but didn’t say anything. Couldn’t say anything. Neither of them could offer Bretta assurances, only hopes. With any luck they could get this woman to claim sanctuary too, at the very least for her son’s sake, but someone like Vars… he would hurt plenty of others on his way out, and wherever he ended up was in for suffering as well. She _hated _it.

_You had best be damn certain in the claim you are making, certain enough to stake your own life and soul on it._

She had not had the privilege of witnessing the Hunting Rite. She did not know the process that needed to be done, but if she asked, Bellamy would tell her, even if she had to miss tomorrow’s summary session with the Justicars and archivists. He likely wouldn’t hesitate even if he knew she was asking for more than academic reasons, not with someone like Vars as her target. Getting ahold of three things which were his might be more difficult, but it sounded like he taunted these people regularly, and Bretta’s husband might know some of his haunts. She’d be able to find three things, especially with a day to arrange it.

Convince these three to claim sanctuary for one night. If he wasn’t caught by tomorrow afternoon, she would go Hunting. Darius Vars would face mortal justice, and be ushered off to face true Judgment as soon as possible, may the schemers behind this plot quickly find themselves in the coldest of hells.

_“Sanctuary – I haven’t heard one of those stories in a long time. Wonder if it’s still on the books after this Conclave they’ve mentioned.”_

_“Silas Torchkeeper, isn’t it?”_

_“One of the better known ones, yes.”_

_“Ivan and I could be persuaded to request that details of that story next, you know!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is a bit of a stretch, but when I realized all three scenes were on track to end with a round cursing of Vars and the Oathbreaker and all of their ilk, it was just too perfect! Hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	14. To Have Awareness of Oneself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well you all _did_ say you liked the changing POVs...

Kavrick had seen Valerik in various less than ideal conditions over their decades of friendship. He never went out drinking with the man; Valerik had offered, once, but fortunately had the forethought to see how he could hold his liquor in the Hall before taking him to a bar. The discovery that Kavrick was a _very _maudlin drunk had quickly shelved any plans Valerik had to add a regular drinking buddy to his Val identity. Kavrick hadn’t particularly wanted to accompany Valerik anyway, because he would have felt obligated to stay somewhat sober, so had never pointed out that getting him drunk the week after Fredric was ordained and stationed out of Sunhame had been _asking_ for tears.

Rubbing his face tiredly, he sat down in the chair by Valerik’s bedside and let himself breathe. He should probably be helping Lumira ride herd on Her Eminence’s Sunsguard, as they were likely growing a little impatient, and Maltin was far from engrossed in his quest for Vanya Flamesinger’s compositions now that the Eldest was back and so obviously strained from what he had managed, reminding his student anew of the danger everyone else had been in at various points today. Hells, Fabron and Tristan couldn’t be far off, they had verified that the western charity ward had no volatiles relatively quickly and had no reason to stay there, they would be back soon and with the Eldest currently unavailable he was technically in charge.

He would go back out. He just – needed a moment.

Ari bless, when Valerik had staggered out of those flames with Kari, Kavrick had thought his friend was dying, forget what anyone had said. He had looked _terrible_, not even accounting for the blood that coated his face and entire front, and had been freezing besides. Those years of hauling a less-than-sober Valerik out of sight had come in handy, and fortunately, while Valerik was out of it, he wasn’t so far gone that Kavrick had to manhandle him through the entire process of cleaning up and changing into dry clothes. He’d had to do that exactly twice, and each time Valerik had apologetically managed to get his hands on the ridiculously hard to find candied ginger Fredric had gotten him addicted to during all-nighter study sessions that they could have been more effective about using for actual studying.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Kavrick counted his breathing.

Holiness Yelena, every bit as terrifying as one would expect out of a person Colbern had once described as an expert at head injuries and the mental strain caused by magical backlash, had been able to ensure Valerik’s seizure had no lasting effects. She had claimed he would likely wake up in a few marks, and had warned him that Valerik should avoid using any form of Talent – which had been an _interesting_ way to phrase the warning, since last he had heard there was still some debate as to whether or not magecraft was a Talent – for at least a week, and even then not to do anything more strenuous than a mage-light or setting off pre-crafted spells for another two. Perhaps overly cautious, she had allowed, but in her estimation, the strength of the geas he had been fighting off could very easily have killed him.

He had almost lost his student yesterday. Today he had almost lost his best friend.

Two moons ago he had lost every possible regard for a man he had thought there was a chance he could love.

“This year has been an _ordeal_,” he muttered to no one.

Hearing a rap on the door, he shoved himself to his feet and pulled it open, feeling his breathing ease when Maltin looked up at him, Flamesinger biography clutched to his chest. No panicked running like when the Eldest had first shown up, no shouts of alarm like when Valerik had collapsed into his arms. It was fine.

“Maltin,” he murmured, hesitating before offering, “We can go elsewhere, if you’d like, or you can come in.”

“Here’s fine,” his student said quietly, slipping through the doorway when he stepped aside and settling into one of the two chairs while Kavrick shut the door again.

“Is Holiness Valerik going to be all right?” Maltin asked, glancing the sleeping man’s way and frowning, “He looks cold.”

“He was cold,” Kavrick said, smiling wryly and waving to the small stove every one of their rooms held, still radiating warmth and freshly stocked with coal, “I was adding coal and warming bricks for his bed the moment we got the call, it’s the middle of winter and he was apparently left underground all night. He’ll be all right, Maltin. Holiness Yelena said he should wake up within a few marks at most. Shouldn’t do any spellcraft for a week, and nothing more strenuous than a mage light for two.”

Maltin nodded, clearly thinking that over, before his student sighed and said wryly, “So we’re heading out of Sunhame with him as soon as he can ride?”

Kavrick scoffed, “Definitely not. It’s Henrik’s turn. Besides, we have our own recoveries to manage.”

Maltin winced, glancing at the book in his lap, and Kavrick felt his throat close up, because _had _Maltin known, about the possible source of his skill with illusions? Of his ability to draw people into _feeling_ what he needed them to through his music?

When Maltin had nearly snared Laskaris in his illusions, the other priest had shaken off the shock and laughed, telling Kavrick he should be proud of his student, and telling his student that he needed to get better at targeting his illusions so random passerby weren’t caught up in them. He had pulled Laskaris aside to thank the younger man for his forbearance later, because he knew how much Laskaris hated it when spellcraft of any sort interfered with his mental awareness, but the man had waved it off as a training accident, as something Maltin could learn to avoid doing, and as a promising sign for his future skill level.

When Kavrick had thought Maltin’s knack for that sort of magic was just that, a knack, he had thought the same. Had thought it would serve Maltin well and had started strategizing over how he could teach the necessary control and finesse.

But a Talent? He had no _idea _how to teach that. If it even _could_ be taught, but it must be, because the Eldest and the Enforcer had that mindspeaking Talent and weren’t drowning in other peoples’ thoughts or constantly projecting their own to the world. But that seemed entirely different from the one Maltin likely had, was that sort of trainability even possible for this musical heart-twisting? Heart-reading, the Eldest had suggested. It was a kind name.

His student was such a kind _person_.

Would Laskaris still say Kavrick should be proud of his student, when he knew?

“If – if I can’t control it. The golden fire. What… what will we do?” Maltin asked, head still bowed.

“You will apparently get very good at whistling,” Kavrick said, reaching forward to grab his student’s hands, “Maltin, I realize this is hard to believe right now, hells I’m having a hard time believing it, I was so terrified I’d lost you, but this is a _good _thing. Maltin, without you, we’d have never even _thought_ to reconsider our ideas of Vanya Flamesinger. We’d have never known that sun-blessed steel sings to more than just those with the Eldest and Rodri’s Talent – “

His blood ran cold when his student gave a single, shuddering sob.

“I have one, don’t I?” Maltin asked, hands shaking but not pulling them from Kavrick’s hold, “That’s – that’s why I can hear it, like they do.”

“I…” Kavrick hesitated, knowing his hesitation was answer enough, but he couldn’t lie to his student; he had promised Maltin he would never lie to him, though he had reserved the right to refuse to answer.

But he couldn’t refuse to answer this. Maltin already knew.

Seras could yell at him for careless treatment of a book later. Kavrick tossed the text aside when Maltin started truly sobbing, hauling his student into his arms and not able to whisper any of the reassurances he normally would, because what could he possibly say?

“I’m here,” he finally settled on, carding his fingers through Maltin’s hair, short-cropped though it was, “I’m here, Maltin, I’ve got you.”

“I should be _dead_.”

“No!” Kavrick insisted, dropping to his knees in front of Maltin’s chair and forcing his student to look at him, grabbing his student’s hands again and knowing his grip was white-knuckled, “No, Maltin, no, that’s not true!”

“It _is_!” Maltin insisted, shuddering, tears running down his face still, “I – I didn’t _know_ I couldn’t have hidden it I never knew and the only reason they never thought to report me as a witch was – was because that would mean I got away from them and that was too much mercy but they _should have_ – “

“Listen to me, Maltin, _listen to me_,” Kavrick interrupted the most horrifying rant he’d ever had to hear come out of Maltin’s mouth, including the time his student had listed off the latest round of insults and he’d had to explain what a catamite even _was _those absolute wretched little _worms_.

“Maltin,” Kavrick started, inhaling shakily and remembering Jaina’s horrified realization that she would have burned their Eldest and felt righteous doing it, had she known he was Talented before this year. He had suffered a similar realization when he heard confirmation that Rodri had a Talent, because Rodri had a remarkable ability to make Maltin laugh, and he had been more than a little fond of their Initiate for it.

Had he known Rodri was Talented, even Talented with fire rather than any of the more damning mental Talents, he would have killed him. He would have grieved, and possibly arranged for the death to be by some other means than fire, but he would have killed him.

Even that alternate death would have been practicality, more than mercy.

What would he have done, if he had found evidence – found _proof_ – that Maltin was a musical heart-reader?

“The odds were always against you,” he finally said, voice choked, “You were brought in at _five_, Maltin, that is so young. You have had so many chances to die, and you have gotten past every single one. So when you say you should be dead – if one looked at your situation logically, assessed the hand you were given – yes. You should be dead.

“But you _aren’t_, Maltin, you _aren’t_ and perhaps it is mind-boggling to contemplate, all the ways things could have been only a little different, but they _didn’t _go that way and I thank the Sunlord _every day_ for that. I have thanked the Sunlord for your survival since I’ve _known_ you, and knowing now that there was yet another way you could have died only means those prayers are going to be more ardent.”

Pulling his student back into a hug, he pressed a kiss to the top of Maltin’s head and murmured, “I am blessed every day to have you as a student. Finding out that you have some sort of – of musically inclined Talent does not change that. We will figure this out, Maltin, I swear to you. We will figure this out, and you will _keep living_, understood?”

Maltin nodded against his shoulder, and he decided he’d take it. Looking up from his student, he caught sight of Valerik, awake and propped up on one arm to stare at them, a worried expression on his face. Kavrick knew he should give the man some sort of reassuring smile, some sort of indication that things were all right, but his student had just had an entirely understandable breakdown and regardless of his words he had _no idea_ what they were going to do, what they even _could _do aside from what they were already doing, and he just couldn’t.

Valerik, fortunately, always knew just how to snap him out of a mood.

“Can you lot cry _quieter_?” the man grumbled, flopping back on his pillow and expression losing all traces of concern and worry while Maltin shoved himself back and scrambled to his feet.

“Oh please, like you didn’t wake half the complex with your sobbing when Henrik burned your alcohol stash and claimed it was to help Laskaris practice for his Second Order Trial,” Kavrick scoffed, rising and feeling a pang of worry when Maltin pressed close to his side and didn’t try to step away when he wrapped an arm around his student’s shoulders.

Valerik’s eyes narrowed, undoubtedly catching the same thing, and his tone went as soft as it ever went barring literal kittens as he said, “You look terrible, kid.”

“You’re one to talk,” Maltin scoffed, both priests letting his shaky voice slide for the moment, too relieved he at least still felt comfortable enough around them to banter, “You look like death warmed over.”

“He usually does,” Kavrick said dryly.

“See if I ever try to be comforting again,” Valerik snorted, and Kavrick was about to snipe back when he saw Valerik shiver.

“Still cold?” he demanded, Maltin stepping away from his side and snagging the book off the ground before they earned Seras’ eternal wrath by stepping on it or kicking it aside.

“Bit,” Valerik grumbled, pulling the blankets Kavrick had piled on him further up his shoulders, “Fuck, I’m lucky I didn’t end up with frostbite.”

“Last night was on the warmer side, but it could have happened,” Kavrick agreed, pressing the back of his hand to Valerik’s forehead and grimacing, “You’re still a little cool to the touch, that’s less than ideal – “

A hideous knit hat smacked Valerik in the face and the man spluttered, Kavrick cackling at his expression and definitely not dissolving into hysterical giggles while he tried to shove it onto Valerik’s head.

“Ah hells, Kavrick,” he heard Valerik mutter, feeling the man sit up and grab him in a hug, regardless of his shivering.

“This year has been a _disaster_,” Kavrick managed, burying his face in Valerik’s shoulder, “Mostly a good disaster, but some pieces…”

“Yeah, I could have done without the whole Loshern proves me right about being a waste of space bit myself,” Valerik grumbled, “Forget this whole Oathbreaking frame job seizure disaster. How long have I been out?”

“Not too long,” Maltin said, Kavrick feeling the edge of the bed sink when Maltin sat down next to them, “Holiness Yelena healed you, says you can’t do magic for a week, and nothing stronger than a mage light for two.”

“Yelena? _Colbern’s _Yelena? Is she as terrifying as we thought?”

“She is,” Kavrick said, sitting upright and smirking, “She’s also young enough to be his daughter, so I think you lost _that _bet.”

“Damn it, of course I did,” Valerik muttered, wincing as he leaned back against the wall, tucking a blanket around his shoulders and settling the hat Maltin had found properly, “Still, a real healer. Didn’t think I’d ever rank one of those.”

“I think they’re allowed to pick who they treat themselves now,” Kavrick reminded him, “Or at least they’re not restricted from healing anyone, should they want to. You nearly died, Valerik.”

“I know,” Valerik admitted, gaze dark, “Being honest, Kavrick, didn’t think I’d make it out when I told Nolans to take that fucking bracelet off my wrist. Figured the spells were killing me as it was, I had a better chance at living if it was gone, but with that strong a geas? I figured it’d kill me, and with any luck the shields that kept people from finding me would go with it. I couldn’t even remember Kari was an _option_ until the bracelet was gone, pain was so bad.”

“Damn it,” Kavrick swore, clenching his fists in his own vestments, knuckles white, “I really could have lost both of you.”

“Eh. If Maltin had died yesterday, I wouldn’t have gone out to drink, give me some credit, I’d be drowning my own tears here,” Valerik said, nudging the acolyte with a faint smile and switching the topic entirely, “What book are you looking at? Looks like a Flamesinger text? Any new theories? I’ll bet Flamesinger had the same Talent you do, not that I have any idea how we’ll prove it.”

“Oh,” Maltin said, sounding startled and staring at the book in his hands, “I… I didn’t. Think of that.”

“Well it’s either that or the one Rodri and the Eldest have, with that obsession with sun-blessed steel, and if Flamesinger had that Talent I don’t think there’d be so much emphasis on him using instruments in his adventures, he would just make fire happen,” Valerik pointed out, shrugging, “It’s just a thought though. He was long enough ago, who knows. Anyway, theories?”

“I think – some of his compositions were trying to make the same song as sun-blessed steel?” Maltin offered, Kavrick immediately intrigued and knowing Valerik felt the same.

“Oh really?” Kavrick prompted, “Which ones?”

Valerik dozed off partway through Maltin’s explanation, and Kavrick honestly only knew as much about music as he did because of Maltin’s own interest so most of what Maltin was saying about timing and oddities in the arrangement and tune flew right over his head. But his student was sounding properly animated after a few minutes of explaining, and that was more than enough to keep him interested.

Hopefully the Eldest or his Enforcer had some idea how to train musical heart-reading. He wanted to let Maltin sign up for as many music classes as his student’s schedule could fit.

=pagebreak=

Corporal Mikel Ashler had been having a _very_ interesting year, and today promised to put a proper feather in the whole thing, particularly given the Fourth Court messenger who’d been waiting at the Sector Station when his squad finally returned after the most exciting few marks he’d ever spent at a Temple, including his little sister’s wedding. He had never thought Darius Vars would actually be charged for his crimes. Certainly not before the reforms, and even afterwards he had been rather resigned to the fact the man would get away with what he had done. With what he was likely still doing.

But now?

Orders for Vars’ arrest had been issued, signed by a _First Order Justicar_, a First Order Justicar he’d seen talking to _two_ _Firecats_ and the Enforcer who’d manifested the _Voice of Vkandis Sunlord _with some sort of Rite even the _Firestarters _he’d been working alongside had spoken of with awe – and, if he wasn’t mistaken, if he wasn’t completely off-base –

He hadn’t said anything. Wouldn’t say anything, until it was confirmed. But he was pretty sure the one non-uniformed man standing near the Justicar’s group had been Corporal Nolans. Seeing his once-Corporal standing with a Justicar – standing with a Justicar and being _listened _to, to all appearances – it was a good sign. It was an _excellent_ sign, and not only because if anyone would have had enough information to get charges to properly stick to that bastard Darius Vars it was Mikel’s former superior.

If charges _did _stick, if whatever had kept Corporal Nolans from getting the appeal he was entitled to _had _actually gotten worked around or through… he might finally have a chance to at least try and pay the man back. The debt he owed his former Corporal was one he’d never be able to truly repay, but he had to try. He _had_ tried, had tried to get people to listen to him when he said Garth Nolans was more than Darius Vars’ right hand. Had _never_ been Darius Vars’ right hand, not really.

But no one would believe him. He had been transferred out of that squad within two moons of being transferred in, and Corporal Nolans had thrown so much effort into getting him out that his records had emerged with enough questions and smudges that he had spent six years in the Outer Eighth with a promotion to Senior Patrolman only in the last two. Before Her Eminence, before everything in the upper echelons of Karse changed to practically unrecognizable overnight, he had expected another six years before he ever got promoted to Corporal, if he ever did. He could probably have made it faster, have been promoted in a timely fashion rather than as a last resort, if he had transferred, but all his family was here in the Eighth.

Instead, within a moon of Captain Marghi taking the reins, he’d been called in and debriefed on what the hell was up with his records and been promptly promoted to Corporal because apparently he was _long_ overdue. The Captain had even flat out admitted that Mikel would have gone straight to Sergeant if Captain Marghi hadn’t thought the jump would be too much to for Mikel to manage after so many years of carefully stomped out ambition.

As it was, he knew exactly what getting sent out as one of three Corporals in a cluster of two squads with one Sergeant meant, and it had only been three moons since he’d made Corporal but finally he once again _wanted_. He had dreamed of being a Sergeant, once. Had once dared to imagine being a Lieutenant, getting a chance to be Shift Lead, but he had let those dreams die years ago and considered them the price of escaping Darius Vars, and a price he was more than willing to pay a thousand times over.

Corporal Nolans had saved him, and it had taken until Mikel’s own promotion to Corporal to truly realize what sort of favors his former superior had to have burned through to get him out, all on a weakly worded request to perhaps not get assigned shifts with Vars alone, because he had sisters.

Corporal Nolans had a sister too.

Flexing his fingers as he passed the testimony copy to the dockyard warehouse worker who’d been used by the Oathbreaker as a means of covering for smuggling and covering for mysteriously appearing corpses, he scrawled out the reference number and name of the witness on his own tally sheet of people who might have been adjacently involved in the charity temple complex issue. This man didn’t know exactly what the containers he was supposed to miscount contained, but the warehouses were told if potentially volatile things were stored in them, and he had been told to miscount a stack of ‘handle with care’ containers a few times in the last moons. Better than even odds, if Mikel had to put a number on it.

Tallies of those witness reports was one column on his scrap paper, the rest was an outline of things to include in his own report and things he wanted to research or ask about after he’d written his formal report up. One thing about all the upheaval lately, people were a lot more willing to answer and ask questions about processes and procedures and the _why_ behind those things. With as much that had shifted and was still shifting, they _had _to ask. Besides, he highly doubted _anyone _knew what the proper terminology was for ‘suspect captured by intervention from the Sunlord Himself’, it wasn’t like they could ask the _Sunlord_ to write a report of the capture for cross-referencing! Hells, figuring out how to properly reference whatever reports the Firestarters wrote up would be awkward enough, if Firestarters even wrote reports for them to cross-reference…

Fortunately, he was only a Corporal on track to be promoted to Sergeant. Those problems were _definitely_ the Captain’s.

The dockyard worker, who had given his name as Niel, no surname, was mouthing the words to himself as he went. He didn’t seem to be struggling to read it overmuch, so Mikel didn’t offer to get one of the other men working as testimony takers to read it aloud. He’d only taken down four testimonies so far, and had yet to call on someone to do a read-back instead of a read-through by the witness themselves, but Outer Eighth or not, this _was _Sunhame. Most people were reasonably literate.

Reaching the end, the man nodded and said, “Agree with it, Corporal.”

“All right. Sign at the bottom, and I’ll sign after you. Would you like a copy?”

“Yes, Corporal.”

Mikel nodded agreeably and pulled a fresh piece of paper over, giving his hand one last shake before picking up his pen and starting on the heading for a witness-owned copy of verified testimony. Even without today’s insane amount of writing, he had been spending some time every evening practicing writing with his off hand. Seeing Corporal Nolans write reports with alternating hands had put the idea in his head back when he was first starting out in the Sunsguard, though it had taken until this past year for him to actually follow through on it. Senior Patrolmen didn’t have much paperwork to do on their own, after all.

He was still nowhere near good enough to use his off-hand for writing official documents, but he was definitely getting better.

Halfway through the copy, he heard shouting from outside and deliberately set his pen aside, as he’d rather not startle and blot ink all over his writing and have to start over again –

Even with the heads up he jumped half-out of his skin when the front door slammed open, the Captain’s raised voice sending all of the Sunsguard in earshot to attention –

“ – _every last one_ of his willing accomplices and I’ll be _damned_ if any of them get away, he is going to be taken in _properly_ and questioned _thoroughly. _If he dies or is crippled or that goal is in _any way compromised_ under _my_ watch I will _arrest the person responsible for being one of those accomplices!”_

He had literally only ever heard the Captain shout _once_ in the moons since he’d first taken over the Station and that had been a call to attention in a crowded briefing. Whoever had prodded the Captain into _that_ sort of cold rage was very likely _sincerely_ regretting their decision to open their mouth, Mikel was half-regretting having to hear it.

The Captain finally crossed the threshold after Senior Lieutenant Bron and the unconscious man they were hauling between them and his furious gaze swept the completely silent station before demanding, “Do I need to repeat myself or is my sentiment _understood_?”

“Understood, sir!” they chorused, snapping off salutes that the Captain couldn’t return, arm hooked under the unconscious man’s shoulder as it was, but that he at least nodded in acknowledgment of.

“Is that _Vars_?” Sergeant Oskar managed, voice strangled.

“Yes,” the Captain said shortly, speaking straight over the rash of whispers and mutters and shocked oaths that broke out at that confirmation, “Patrolman, you’re from Fourth Court. Orders for Vars’ arrest included in your messages or not?”

“Ah – they were, Captain,” the messenger said, offering a salute and looking a little startled at the question and the foreknowledge it implied, “Orders for Vars’ arrest and details on handling testimony regarding the Oathbreaker. Announced them to your men, sir, seeing as people had already arrived to offer that testimony.”

“Appreciated,” the Captain said, eyeing a pair of soldiers without anyone offering testimony at the moment and saying, “I’m stealing that desk.”

Mikel had to sit down again, couldn’t spend his entire time drinking in the sight of Darius Vars _arrested_, actually _caught_. He had a job to do. But he still watched for a few moments more, as the Captain shoved Vars into a chair and hooked his bound arms over the back, accepted the set of scrolls from the Fourth Court’s patrolman, told the civilian man who’d followed him in to offer testimony to the two soldiers he’d stolen the desk from if the man would be so kind, and ordered Senior Lieutenant Bron to sit down and breathe for a few moments before heading out for his next task, whatever that was.

The Captain’s face was bleeding. Looked like someone had clawed his cheek. He didn’t seem to care at all, and was very definitely keeping one eye on Vars at all times.

Finally, Mikel _had_ to tear his gaze away, and he found his witness staring at him with as much terrifyingly wild relief – as much _hope _– as he himself felt. Hopefully he was a little less obvious. But perhaps it didn’t matter if he wasn’t. Let the man recognize the same thing in him, know that it wasn’t just civilians who’d lived in terror of Vars’ reach.

He’d never dared _dream_ Darius Vars would _actually_ be _caught_.

“I’d like to add some things to my testimony, Corporal,” the dockyard worker admitted.

Mikel had to grin, even if that meant he had to rewrite everything again. He’d rewrite every report he’d ever filed in his life if it meant Darius Vars stayed caught.

They were halfway through the rewrite of Niel’s testimony – nothing truly _changed_, but some details the man had carefully danced around or glossed over were fleshed out, were added, now that he didn’t have Vars’ presence hanging over his head – when another set of people entered aside from the seemingly never-ending stream of people forming the queue for offering testimony against the Oathbreaker.

“Papa!”

Senior Lieutenant Bron gave a gutted sob at the shout, Mikel watching as Gari slammed into the Senior Lieutenant’s arms with tears running down his own face as he promised, “It’s gone the curse is gone they can’t make me sick anymore it’s okay papa, I’m okay.”

Mikel had to put his pen over his scrap paper when that properly registered, when he truly realized what little Gari was saying. His nephew was Gari’s age, they were even playmates, though that was irregular, given how frequently he was ill. Dangerous to let your kids play with someone ill so regularly for their own sake, forget worries on Gari’s parents’ end about their son being exposed to something.

Apparently, very little of that sickliness had been natural.

“Ah hells. And he _still _arrested Vars?” he heard Niel mutter, sounding a perfectly understandable mix of horrified and impressed. He could see more than a few people blanching, giving the family sympathetic glances, ducking their heads and looking ashamed. The Captain grabbed the Fourth Court’s messenger and hauled him to stand where he’d block Vars’ sight of the small family if he woke up anytime soon. Or at least give them a chance to get the family out of there if Vars woke up anytime soon; Mikel was definitely praying the man remained unconscious until safely in Fourth Court’s custody – hopefully whoever the Captain had sent with word of Vars’ capture was moving fast.

“Mistress Jana,” the Captain greeted one of the two women who’d followed Bretta and Gari in, and the moment Mikel heard her name he realized why she looked familiar. Val and Jana were more than a little infamous in the Outer Eighth Sector Station, after all. “You found your brother then?”

“Maude’s brother found my brother, Captain, but he has been found at least. Not entirely sure why the Oathbreaker thought the two of them were the best people to frame for this whole destroy the charity temple plot, but fortunately that’s for the Justicar to figure out,” the famously younger-and-more-sensible Jana said, certainly sounding very sensible.

“Oh it sounds like a very nested plan,” the Captain agreed, apparently having heard things about whatever this plan involved beyond destroying a charity temple. The target definitely implied politics were involved somehow, and thank the Sunlord that was definitely not his problem to deal with and Blessed Souls watch over the Captain while he dealt with it. Mikel wouldn’t trade places with him for all the gold in the District.

With that in mind, he focused back on his actual job, catching Niel’s gaze and murmuring apologies for taking so long.

The dockyard worker grinned at him and said quietly, “Oh don’t apologize, Corporal. I’ll be getting free drinks for this story the rest of the winter!”

=pagebreak=

Her brother’s fires had been subsiding, so far as Solaris had been able to tell. Fewer proper flames, though still plenty of shortlived sparks, and those that did bloom to full flame faded quickly. There had been flares, sharp spikes in activity and intensity, which she suspected were in direct response to whatever Kir was hearing from Anur about the ongoing investigation, but in between those surges things had been steadily calming.

At least until a few moments ago.

“Kir,” she said gently, watching as cords of fire crawled over their outstretched legs and the Firecat sprawled across them, “Hearing about this ongoing investigation is hardly restful. Your fires are growing stronger again.”

Her brother flinched away, and Solaris hurriedly caught him around the shoulders and pulled him back to rest against her shoulder, murmuring, “Easy, brother. If they grow stronger, they grow stronger. But if this is due to stress, I would prefer to stop seeking out stressful things. Your brother can handle himself. If he needs aid, he will call. Or Aelius will call on his behalf, at the very least.”

Solaris smiled at her brother’s laugh, and felt her smile widen when fires started winking out without being immediately replaced. Better. Not as good as it had gotten before Kir started hearing something consistently and unceasingly distressing, but better.

“You understand Aelius and Anur disturbingly well, for having first spoken to Aelius yesterday,” Kir commented, voice still a little raspy.

“I am rather familiar with the behavior of ardently protective brothers dealing with overly self-sacrificing siblings,” she replied pointedly, but didn’t quite manage to keep the tremor out of her voice.

Kir paused, before carefully letting more of his weight rest against her side as he murmured, “Apologies, sister.”

She snorted, shaking her head and retorting, “For what, managing to save innocent lives and drag a nest of corruption and extortion into the light, all before noon? You have nothing to apologize for. I simply worried, and hearing you say you would be strained and injured is entirely different from _seeing_ you under so much strain and so recently injured. The fact I can do nothing to help makes it worse. The fact that I _missed _this – ”

“We’re all going to be kicking ourselves for missing things we had no reason to notice without the benefit of hindsight,” Kir interrupted, sounding truly exhausted, “Let’s not start doing that now.”

Undoubtedly, Solaris knew, her brother already was.

“A distraction, then,” she said firmly, “Something utterly unrelated to today’s disaster. Give me a moment to think of something.”

“I have something,” Kir offered, and she raised an eyebrow, hearing grief in his voice.

“This does not sound like something undistressing,” she protested.

“But it is important, and time sensitive,” Kir countered, choking on a cough and hurriedly turning away from her and leaning over gravel, Solaris hastily hooking her arm around his torso and taking a fair bit of her brother’s weight as he pinched his nose. Blood clot must have come loose. It was a good thing he had insisted on getting out of his vestments. She had initially protested because they were at least wool; his standard issue Sunsguard uniform was winter weight, certainly, but without any of the associated outerwear it wasn’t particularly warm in and of itself. At least with this much fire in the air they had some insulation, and Kari was an excellent Cat-sized blanket. So long as she could keep her brother from deciding he didn’t need to sit next to her, they should be all right. Barring too much more blood loss, at least.

Grimacing as she waited for her brother to decide to try and sit up straight again, she murmured, “Speak of darkness and it comes. Are you going to be all right, Kir? This is – rather extreme.”

“You didn’t see me after the Comb Fire,” Kir retorted hoarsely, “This strain is – not quite as bad, I would say. But I wasn’t physically injured, it was only strain from my Talent. The combination is the problem.”

_:Aelius said the Comb Fire was similarly difficult, but different enough in mechanism he couldn’t properly compare the efforts. You’d know best,: _Kari admitted, still sounding worried, _:Knowing it could be worse really doesn’t help though.:_

“It never does,” Kir replied wearily, slowly moving his hands away from his face and not quite sighing in relief when the new clot evidently held. Solaris waited a few moments longer before pulling him back up to lean against her shoulder again.

“Your Conclave’s meals have already been arranged, haven’t they?” Solaris asked, eyeing the handkerchief that Holiness Lumira would certainly not be getting back, “You’ve lost a fair bit of blood today.”

“There’s some sort of meat tonight I think, and I have nut-based ration bars I can eat before then,” Kir said, reaching for his mug and making a face when he took a sip, continuing, “Honestly I don’t know much about the Conclave beyond the writings of formal procedure and what others have told me. Logistics wise, I asked Jaina what I needed to do for the Conclave a few moons ago and she told me that aspect was nearly entirely hands-off on our part, she simply confirms a head count to the appropriate people a few weeks ahead of time and food and the like arrives as needed.”

“Fair enough,” Solaris said, admitting ruefully, “You know well how to take care of yourself, brother, I just – I worry. And of all my Councilors you are certainly the most injury prone!”

“Here’s hoping you didn’t curse _them_,” Kir chuckled, and Solaris groaned.

“You and I both know that is not remotely how curses work, but I _certainly_ understand the thought process behind that belief! Hopefully not, I think Anur has cursed us more than enough for this year.”

“True, but the year _is _almost over…”

“The clear solution is to change our timekeeping system! The years are now counted at Midsummer,” Solaris declared, tossing her head exaggeratedly. If Kir was feeling up to teasing, that was only to be encouraged, “That should get us through quite a few events without complications.”

“Hardorn invading _and _Valdemar? I think you are asking a little too much, Solaris,” Kir replied dryly.

“Oh I know, and Ulrich would be the first of a _line_ of scholars to have my head for changing the timekeeping system so abruptly, but it is a nice dream,” Solaris said wistfully, before shaking her head and resting her cheek against her brother’s hair, saying quietly, “Right then. Something time sensitive and important, though distressing. No chance we can postpone that and discuss something that won’t distress you further?”

“I think the latter is asking too much again,” Kir murmured, next inhale worringly shaky before he continued, “In Valdemar, they have what is called mind-healers. I don’t know what exactly that means, but there is some form of trained heart-reading involved. Perhaps other things. Would soul-healing serve a similar need?”

“Hmm. Without speaking to a mind-healer so Talented, I can’t say for certain,” Solaris said, intrigued at the idea. It was certainly a societal need, and one that supposedly priests and priestesses were trained to fill, if without Talents to assist them. Finding priests and priestesses who actually _could _fill that societal need was another matter entirely, especially with as many people who undoubtedly needed that sort of assistance in these chaotic times.

Though if Kir was focusing on the Talent aspect he could be missing a key point of what her answer relied on.

“Kir, counseling members of your congregation can provide some of that healing you are speaking of,” she pointed out, “Not so quickly or efficiently as someone with a Talent might be able to, with only being able to use words, but trauma can be worked through with no Talent to assist at all, sometimes at least.”

“Yes, because so many come to a _Firestarter_ for counseling,” Kir retorted, which she did not protest only because he managed to continue before she found the right words, admitting, “I think there were classes on that, for pastoral priests? Red robes?”

“Some black robes as well, it wasn’t restricted based on field,” Solaris corrected, feeling more resigned than furious at the holes in her brother’s education, holes he had never even been _allowed _to try and fill, “You never got to take those.”

“Definitely not,” Kir said, huffing a laugh, “Though to be honest considering the previous regime – those could go very badly.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say they were particularly helpful _all_ of the time, but they put us in contact with people to discuss ideas and experiences with,” Solaris agreed frankly, “Some of the instructors were good, some were less than, as is the usual. Curriculum redesign has been a project there too. Everywhere, really, though some less than others. Back to the soul-healers versus mind healers bit – Anika Brersi is a soul-healer. Ulrich is as well, and I am capable of it, though never formally trained as such. Exorcists in particular are trained to do a soul-healer’s job without that… well. I do not think it is a Talent, as we are calling them. Without that knack, I suppose. It takes longer without it, does not heal quite as thoroughly as it might for a gifted soul-healer, but it can be done. It requires – more trust, between the victim and the healer, than the gifted individual might need. A person with that knack would be able to affect healing without building a true rapport, though of course that rapport would assist.”

She could go on, of course, it was a fascinating idea to puzzle out the potential differences and similarities between what they called soul-healing and what the Valdemarans apparently called mind-healing, but Kir had asked for a time sensitive reason that she had yet to hear about.

“What brought this up?” she prompted, “I suppose you’re wondering what we have that could fill in for a mind-healer?”

“Mental scars caused by a heart-reader gone mad,” Kir said lowly, “Who would be most effective for healing those? Aelius said a trained to heal heart-reader, which is obviously not an option, but Kari says a soul-healer could work, who are our options in Sunhame?”

“Hmm. How dire is the situation?”

“Scars are from a suicide compulsion done years ago, the man only survived because I showed up in time to stop him. Thoughts of suicide occur too frequently and are very hard to turn aside ever since,” Kir replied, shuddering, and Solaris was hard pressed not to echo it, “I never followed up after that first meeting. I should have, curse it all, but it didn’t occur to me there would be lasting after effects.”

_:Why would it?: _Kari inserted, tone pointed and evidently knowing far more about this situation than she did, _:Anur was caught up in it, _Aelius_ was caught in it, as were Devek Koshiro and Balin Sescha! None of them had after effects, or at least if they did they weren’t ever brought up to you. Why would you assume one out of five had lingering trauma when four out of five showed no signs of further issues?:_

Those few details were enough for her to know dodging this topic wasn’t possible, and she sighed, cutting Kir off mid-retort with a wry, “You are not going to like my answer.”

Her brother paused, lifting his head to stare at her and looking unfortunately wary, “What are you talking about?”

Perhaps if she guided him to the proper conclusion, he would have fewer objections. Unlikely, of course, but possible. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, “What do four out of the five unaffected victims have in common, Kir?”

He looked genuinely confused, before finally hazarding a guess, “Ah… I know them better?”

“Blessed Souls lend me strength,” she muttered, giving up on guiding him to any sort of answer and saying bluntly, “Kir. They were with _you_. My list of available soul healers in Sunhame _has your name on it._”

“That’s not possi – “

“Kir,” Solaris interrupted, voice stern, and she felt her heart break when her brother flinched away at her tone. At the topic she had brought up.

Exhaling slowly, she tipped forward to rest her brow against his and was heartened to see him smile at the gesture she had most definitely stolen from watching him and Anur interact, saying quietly, “There is a difference, brother, between humility and lack of self-awareness. It took me far too long to realize that far too often, you fell into the latter. At least when it comes to realizing the good that you are capable of, the good that you _do_.”

“I’m not a healer,” Kir said quietly.

“You help your unit’s medic treat injuries,” she pointed out, “You removed _bishra_ from the lungs of well over fifty people.”

“That’s not _healing_, that’s - !”

“Healing is a _process_,” Solaris interrupted, wanting to drive her point home, “What Holiness Yelena and Holiness Coric can do is one way to help that natural process along. The magecraft Holiness Jaina is trained to use alongside stiches and ointments is another. The removal of poisons and drains, easing pain – all of those are other ways to help that process along. Soul-healing is separate from all of that.”

Kir was shaking.

“I’m not a healer,” he repeated.

Solaris had no idea how to reach him. No idea how to truly explain what she was trying to say without running into her brother’s thrice-damned belief that the Sunlord would only ever smile upon him as an ultimate last resort.

That deeply entrenched belief had been the main reason she hadn’t informed him of his position as her successor, should the worst happen. Oh certainly, she had considered the point moot after Hansa’s arrival, but it had not taken long after their second in-person meeting to realize that what she had thought of as humility, as a virtuous trait that would serve him well, was in fact a genuine belief that any sign of the Sunlord’s favor had nothing to do with him. Telling him he was her successor, should the worst occur, that he was the emergency back up plan to keep their revolution on track, would only reinforce that, _did _only reinforce that. Left him believing that the Sunlord would favor him only when there were no other options.

Even claiming _that_ would end in arguments; the only explanation for the clear signs of the Sunlord’s favor that Kir would accept were those focusing on the righteousness of the causes Kir pursued, on the fact that he was acting in her name and for her benefit. It had nothing to do with _him_. Her other Councilors had not helped; when they had ended up explicitly discussing the fact he was no longer to be considered her successor, thanks to Hansa’s presence, their cheerful agreements to Kir’s wry words about the sort of revolution his Ascent would have implied had left no room for doubt. None of them – _none_ of them – realized how well Kir could have done. _Would_ have done, had he been called to. They all genuinely believed the only reform Kir could lead would be one of blood and ashes.

Her reforms were being enforced with blood and ashes. Her Ascent had been _paved_ with blood and ashes. She could not save everyone, no matter how she tried, today’s fiasco was more than proof enough of that, and a very dear reminder that there were quite a few people she had not and _would _not bother to try and extend a hand to. There was only so much time and effort to spare. Yet _somehow_, it seemed that her Council members _including Kir_ assigned _him_ responsibility for the violence her reforms had caused. They described actions done in her name and under her authority and sometimes even under her explicit mandate as things _Kir _was entirely responsible for. She had been trying to redirect that line of thought, felt she had been making progress on it, yet today had shown that whatever progress she had thought she made was nowhere near enough.

Kir’s Conclave would keep him out of the way for a few days, and give her the chance to assemble the Council without him. He would only be further hurt by what she suspected she would end up hearing, and having a chance to bleed off some of that poison before bringing Kir in to help work out a resolution to the whole mess could only be beneficial.

If it meant she could sit down with Ulrich and figure out a way to properly frame soul-healing as a _burden_ rather than a sign of favor, all the better. At least that Kir would accept.

“I am not explaining this properly,” Solaris said quietly, “And only distressing you further. I will speak to Ulrich and the others I know as soul-healers and ask them about treating suicide compulsions in general.”

_:I can provide some relief for the Captain, and have already said that I will,: _Kari said, a literal avatar of their God rubbing his head against Kir’s hand.

Not favored by the Sunlord at all, obviously. Brothers!

“And I have offered to try and figure out teaching mental shielding to non-Talented so he can at least be safer from any similar assaults, Sunlord forbid he encounter one,” Kir said, a faint smile on his face at the Firecat’s gesture and carding his fingers through Kari’s fur, “But I would prefer the man entirely healed.”

“Of course,” Solaris agreed, “But that will give us time to find someone who can help. Perhaps even time to get details on mind-healing from someone in Valdemar? You know a Valdemaran healer, right?”

“Healer Joss, yes,” Kir said, smiling wryly and near visibly seizing onto the change of topic, “I’ll ask him when I see him next, which will undoubtedly be soon. Anur insists I get checked over by him when we’re back in the 62nd.”

“I can’t blame him,” Solaris said, narrowing her eyes as she continued, “Punctured lungs are nothing to take lightly, Kir. As you apparently _already_ _knew_.”

“It was years ago, Solaris,” Kir said, rolling his eyes at her before dropping his head against her shoulder again, and she took the signs of his growing ease with their conversation with a sigh of relief. They’d have to discuss this soul-healing matter again, but it could wait. She knew enough to start looking for answers.

“Hells, that first puncturing is what pulled Healer Joss in,” Kir was commenting, “Which is the only reason we had a shot at saving Herald Lenora, and he’s offered some excellent treatment options to Senior Lieutenant Janner which have certainly saved lives in the 62nd. So a net positive.”

Solaris decided to prompt another change in topic. If she had to listen to her brother explain how very nearly dying and certainly very nearly crippling himself was most definitely a good thing, she’d be hard pressed to keep from shaking him, and he was hurting too much for that. She was a little too tired to try and do this subtly though.

“New topic!” she announced, “It cannot have injuries involved at all, and cannot be distressing!”

“Hmm. Have I shown you my new Sun-in-Glory?”

“No!” Solaris replied, feeling immediately intrigued. Kir was not one for trappings of rank, and she had honestly expected him to find another one of the standard issue Sun-in-Glories to replace his previous one.

“I can’t show it to you now, Anur has it,” Kir said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“Well you can’t not _tell _me about it,” she protested, possibly exaggerating her insistent tone, “I’m intrigued! What is so special about it? Is there anything special about it or are you just trying to distract me with a story about a standard-issue Sun-in-Glory?”

“I should say it’s the latter, but I’m very proud of Rodri and it has an intriguing story attached to it so I won’t,” Kir said, “Rodri made it with assistance from Forgemaster Axeli, using eight sun-blessed steel arrowheads as the rays. It’s beautiful Solaris, and the conglomeration of the sun-blessed steel into one piece has changed it somehow, or at least – there is something different about that piece, as opposed to the spear and arrowheads we’ve worked with otherwise.”

“I’ve tried meditating with the spearhead you gave me,” Solaris admitted, “I _might _have heard that tune you mentioned. I felt like I heard _something_ but it didn’t seem to match what you described.”

“We’ll have to try out the Sun-in-Glory then,” Kir decided, “But don’t hum along.”

“I look forward – wait, why?” Solaris asked, brow furrowing and casting a definitely laughing Kari a confused glance, “Does something happen when you hum along?”

“Well, I can’t say I’ve tried it,” Kir said, “Though I plan to. But Maltin? Nearly set the library on fire humming along with what he heard. I suspect it’s that heart-singing Talent we’ve mentioned, the one the Valdemarans call Bardic. He definitely has that Talent, at least.”

“Truly?” Solaris asked, fascinated. Sun-blessed steel had never been something she’d considered beyond its occasional reference in stories. She would certainly never have guessed a Rite-forging would be the key. If someone had asked her for a theory, she would have assumed a standard weapons blessing done for a cause the Sunlord smiled upon would be sufficient. When Kir and Anur had first mentioned sun-blessed steel to her she had been terribly annoyed that their meeting’s agenda was packed. Even moons later and with a sun-blessed steel spearhead in her possession, she had not had _near _enough time discussing the Rite her brother had recreated and the sacred artifacts that resulted from it.

“It was very dramatic,” Kir said tiredly, but with a strong enough undercurrent of amusement she didn’t feel obligated to insist he stop talking and rest, “Issues emerged in the aftermath, of course, but the discovery itself is _fascinating_.”

“Yes, issues, I can certainly guess some of those,” Solaris winced, because heart-reading or singing were certainly the sorts of Talents the old regime would have been so very determined to burn out, “Well let’s not discuss _them_, that is far from restful. But! Sun-blessed steel, brother I have so very many _questions_ for you – but before I ask questions, tell me about this forging Rite you say you found.”

_:Recreated,: _Kari spoke up, Kir groaning at the Cat’s word and protesting, “Kari! Rediscovered is perfectly accurate – “

_:Eldest, it truly is not,: _Kari interrupted, butting his head against Kir’s ribs, _:Unless you forgot the provenance of a key text, which I doubt, you did not have much more than scraps of stories and songs to work with. The most detailed monograph we have on sun-blessed steel spends more than half its text on properly respectful maintenance of already forged relics!:_

Glancing over his shoulder at Solaris and ignoring Kir’s muttered protests, Kari repeated, _:Recreated.:_

Back to this then. She was going to have to get a moment alone with Anur or get Hansa to facilitate a conference with herself and Aelius, because they at the very least needed Kir to believe in his own goodness! For the moment though, she had to leave it, and try to push the conversation onto less fraught ground.

“What was your process?” Solaris prompted, hoping technical details would be safer, “The research in the archives, of course, but how did you pull out relevant bits from the dross? Actually, how did you know it was a forging? My readings on sun-blessed steel left me thinking it was a particular blessing on already forged weapons.”

“That was my first thought as well, and seemed to be the common consensus, when people actually believe sun-blessed steel was more than a pretty way to say well crafted steel wielded by a priest or priestess,” Kir said, picking up the well-past lukewarm mug of tea beside him and taking a displeased sip before continuing, “But that interpretation didn’t stand up to scrutiny, not really. Vanya Flamesinger had to hunt down sun-blessed steel, but timing wise he was not so far from Reulan’s reign, there should have still been some sacred knowledge or righteous individual capable of that sort of blessing. Another point against it was the fact that sun-blessed steel’s loss was always referred to as a _skill_ that had been lost or as no longer being able to _craft _sun-blessed steel. The language didn’t seem to fit a prayer or spell of some sort being lost, the wording just wasn’t right for that.”

Solaris shook her head ruefully but didn’t say anything. She was no scholar, for all her long trips to the archives looking into their history, and picking out a few verbs as being odd choices would never have led her to the conclusion that making sun-blessed steel was no mere spell or prayer. Kir dragged his fingers through Kari’s coat, collecting sparks as he went, continuing, “Thinking on the effects of magic and how spelled steel holds onto enchantments led to the next problem. Generation lasting enchantments like sun-blessed steel had to be, for any of the stories to be remotely accurate and for that maintenance text on ancient relics to be at all reasonable, have to be anchored. Anchored in some form of etching is of course possible, but that would weaken the blades, which seemed impractical, and besides that there were references to arrowheads and those are too small for the sort of etchings that would be needed for anchored spellcraft that long-lasting, and obviously anything in a hilt wouldn’t make sense for arrowheads either. That left the metal, which meant either a special ore or a special forging – or both, but I had no way to work on the ore angle so I focused on the forging.”

Smiling at both the words she was hearing and the way Kir’s tension was properly easing as he talked, she listened to Kir outline the way he picked through monographs and stories, pulled scraps of hymns and the rhythms of the forgework he had experienced himself, and tried combinations and pieces in various sequences until finally something about the final piece, the last draft, felt _right_. He had then had the good fortune to have Forgemaster Axeli declare their next and last major project his choice, seeing as his ordination was approaching, and Kir had presented the Rite. The Forgemaster had read through it, declared it fully possible from the forging perspective, and they had crafted a miracle.

“I think I understand,” Solaris said, when Kir tried again to find words besides ‘it felt right’ to describe how he had known that what he held was the Rite he was searching for, “It sounds much like those moments in my meditations when an idle thought suddenly rings as _truth_.”

She was careful not to say anything explicit about how it was one of the ways she perceived the Sunlord’s Will, about how her meditations were done so she could still her thoughts and remove her desires from what she was mulling over, from what she was feeling, and listen for the subtlest of the Sunlord’s whispers. And they were subtle, most of the time. Either so quiet she had to meditate on His Will to catch a hint of it or so loud it felt like her very soul was on fire.

She had only ever seen one so-called witch burn, and Solaris had been a child, still, only just starting her official training for the priesthood. Her youth was the only reason her hysterics hadn’t condemned her as well, because the moment the first spark had hit the pyre every corner of her being had been screaming at the soul-searing _wrong this is wrong this is wretched and evil and wrong_ that had overwhelmed her. She had been unable to understand how anyone could _possibly_ think this was the Sunlord’s Will, couldn’t they _hear Him_?

Kir would never even consider that the Sunlord might have murmured to him, when he first started considering that witch-powers were not evil. That those quiet moments spent looking over research and thinking over sacred writings and praying for guidance could be answered with a feeling in his heart that he was thoughtful enough, considerate enough, _strong _enough, to listen to. To heed. No, Kir had never considered himself someone _worthy_ of hearing the Sunlord. Not until he had come into her service, and received an entirely independent reason for the Sunlord’s actions to convey favor upon him.

Acting through the unworthy because their cause was a good one had been one of the things to get their nation in this mess. It was still sometimes necessary. It was not done with any other choice available. Kir was _not_ in that necessary but unwise category, no matter what he thought.

Even with her careful avoidance of referring to perception of the Sunlord’s will, Kir was shaking his head and denying the comparison, “Similar, perhaps, but I had no concept of its truth or righteousness, it simply seemed the best of my versions, and I wished to try.”

Smacking her brother over the head with the Crown of Vkandis would not do any good at all, but it was sometimes _sorely tempting_.

Fortunately for them all, Kari perked up, ears pricked as he stared into the distance before giving a distinctively _pleased_ rumble. Blue eyes flashed up at them, and the Cat’s voice was all the sharp-edged joy of a triumphant catch, _:It seems that one Darius Vars has been arrested.:_

_“I have to be honest, there are a lot of scribbled out words, I think they got in an argument in the middle of writing this. Something about the sun-blessed steel crafting? And… maybe healing?”_

_“Well. At least they caught this Vars bastard?”_

_“A net positive, definitely.”_

_“I find it rather worrying they’re willing to write about repunctured lungs and soul-gamble Hunting Rites and not about whatever this is.”_

_“Tamara! Would it kill you to think positively for once!”_

_“Look me in the eye and tell me my worries have no basis, Irma!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow was this one a bit of a mess (I feel like I've been saying that every chapter ugh). Kavrick and Valerik? Flowed amazingly easily, it was fantastic, even if Maltin kind of made me want to cry. Solaris? Once she started talking it was _very difficult_ to get her to stop. But the Outer Eighth! Gah! Finding the right brain to crawl into for that scene was a _nightmare_ and looped me through at least four characters before finally settling on a background OC I had honestly thought I wouldn't be hearing from at all. But it finally worked out, and I hope you all enjoyed it!


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